The moon swells in the last days of our heat wave. I have spent the summer filling this room with fans,and each night I have turned them on and slept beneath their electric whir, protected from morning birdsong and its infinite memory of your arm half-circled around my waist. What will I do when the …
The fire truck passed, and I watched as the cars resumed their forward momentum in waves, as if the siren had paused time and then hit play again.
The crows amass before dawn. I consider shooing them like an old woman in an Italian movie, with a broom and guttural noises that don’t require subtitles, but their caws seem cooperative. One delegates; The others request clarification. I stay in bed. I await my orders.
If the pews had been more accommodating, the weather cooler, my clothes more suitable for a room full of Sunday bodies, I would have married him.
A poppy for him. A beetle for her. A story for me.
I have been defending myself for days. I’m going to get some sleep now.
I have tried since morning to find the words for the winged scarab pendant my mother fastened around my neck when I was small enough to need her to fasten such things. A scarab. A symbol for the sun being rolled across the sky. A symbol etched on tombs. A symbol for re-birth–an amulet for …