in the midday dark of the bar, he called me Athena –from birth, grown clothed in armor virgin goddess of war– his words uneven things, unbalanced tables at street cafes you can never quite keep from rocking, I was uncertain if it was me or the myth that eluded him Continue reading
Latest Entries
If only
you had not let the bougainvillea grow untamed for those months, knowing what it would do to the stucco how it would cover the roof its fuchsia threatening the gutters every time it rains Continue reading
I.
I do not know how to narrate childhood: I was a small secret once tethered to a rocking womb, prone to motion sickness. Continue reading
Creative Non-Fiction / Love / Musings / poetry / Poetry / Uncategorized / Writing
If I speak plainly, just this once
I have tried for weeks to find the poetry in my mother’s madness. I find it, then lose it, then find it again. My mother spent years buying gemstones off the television, only to hold them up to the sun in her backyard and watch them sparkle. She is not a simpleton, distracted by shine, … Continue reading
I have stopped counting the days of 36
Between arriving and departing, the night is in its middle when he calls. The men you almost marry sound like ash on the phone, so much fire gone. I can only answer. There are no more questions between us, we speak in declarations now: “That place on 4th was infested. You remember.” I should say, … Continue reading
Day 2 of 36
I had hoped to write something on the last day of 35; or, even the first of 36, but nothing came. That is how it goes. In this part of the universe, I am about an hour into the second day of my 36th year, and I can’t sleep. I did not jump into this … Continue reading
Love / poetry / Poetry / Uncategorized / Writing
Day 341 of 35
In a pile of clothes to be mended, I find the slip you broke. Strap torn away, small tear left behind Easy enough to stitch, I told you, when you paused at the damage you had done. Pink thread, fine needle, a rudimentary sewing ability passed on from my father’s days in … Continue reading
Day 309 of 35
I miss the poetry of desire and the taste of want. Continue reading
Day 303 of 35
Dialogue He says: You’re angry. She says: I’m hurt, so I wear higher heels and more lipstick. But, I can see how that looks like angry. He says: Sometimes, I worry that without you, I will forget how to breathe She says: Hold your breath. The … Continue reading
Day 281 of 35
Though it is not my usual posture, I have had an overwhelming desire to retreat lately—maybe, even to hide. I have been running scenarios through my head for months. I come across enough money to quit working the 8-5 job. I tell my lady mutts, Delilah and Sugar, to hop in the back of … Continue reading
Untempered Glass 