Something about losing small pieces - an errant tooth, the color in my hair, the smell of autumn as father held my hand, fading vision / a kidney butchered under failing hands, and time a butterfly flapping backward through time, wrapping itself in strands fading memories wandering banter stolen kisses amongst the shrubbery, the illicit … Continue reading Wrapping Backwards
...as a child, the sun on my cheeks, warm grass under bare feet, running up green, undulating hills, rolling down their far sides. Our laughter. Blue sky, wheeling birds, puffs of clouds, cotton wisps, kite scudding below. Thinking "This. This, then, is happy." A place I would access, had accessed, over and over... limitless, and … Continue reading Lost Maps
Attic. Dusty Boxes.
I do not know which is worse. Finding a personal, loving letter from someone you cannot seem to remember. Or Finding a personal, loving letter from someone you cannot seem to forget.
I Am a Rocking Child, Rolling
I am contained by spit and bailing wire, the old go-cart knocked together from peach crates, roller skates, an old wooden skate affixed with bent nails to peach-stained slats. Rocking down hills, round hairpin turns, skipping cracks and gaps. Memory. Bailing wire and gum, glue, thoughts of you. Cocksure and unafraid. Rickety with memory, bound by … Continue reading I Am a Rocking Child, Rolling