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. Continue reading →

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. Continue reading →

A poppy for him. A beetle for her. A story for me. Continue reading →

I have been defending myself for days. I’m going to get some sleep now. Continue reading →

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 … Continue reading →

Today has been too hard. I am retreating. Continue reading →

Today I am waiting for the weather to cool. There is still too much heat for the seeds to survive. The dogs have been digging at the guava tree, exposing roots. Branches are burning in the sun. I worry that I cannot save it. I still feel the shift of your weight in the morning, … Continue reading →

There is nothing for today. I am full of anectdote, but lacking story. Continue reading →

I drive into the sun to get home. I turn off the radio. I grip the steering wheel tight. My eyes are useless here, but still I open them wider, trying to remember where the asphalt narrows from two lanes to one. I am grateful that I know this road, but I am afraid someone … Continue reading →

In my dream you are a mime, leaning over a brick wall, in deep conversation with my father. And then you are gone, and the wall disappears, and I am in a garage watching my father punch a heavy bag. He throws punch after punch in the exact same spot–the space of vinyl where he … Continue reading →