Still
What if . . . we hadn’t yet learned to trust movement. And now here we are.
Read More Still. . . the After Words
What if . . . we hadn’t yet learned to trust movement. And now here we are.
Read More Still“You are likely depressed,” said the professional. I laugh at myself. Leaping over boundaries like always, I thought I was just tired.
Read More to birth is to releaseAnd then like a pool cue, his inner child propelled mine forward with a slow roll and a pocket.
Read More armadilloI suppose the real fire
began to emit
when grown up
me
really turned around
and clasped a small hand.
We don’t talk about how relationships never end …. it feels … like reaching through air.
Read More DeathMy knuckles are bone inflamed.
Skin, Ponds soft
Shimmery
Short, red nails
Perhaps an opal
No. Brown-yellow topaz.
I ground myself into the earth.
Here.
I gave her back. Too.
When my own was born.
I gave much back.
So I could mother.
I love you. Your forehead; my lips. Your rings; my giving. Your lifeless body; my ring. My ring; your body leaving. My longing; your pinkie finger. My decision; topaz side by side. I love you.
Read More Pinkie