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
Category Archives: Death
Day 236 of 35 (Day 26 of NaPoWriMo)
George Jones Died Today, Erasure (for my father, Richard Alan Miller) I’ll love you forget time years pass slowly kept half crazy now then still Hoping come back again found Dated underlined in … Continue reading
Day 215 of 35 (Day 5 of NaPoWriMo)
With you gone, dusk is the same: the dogs bark at the moth that comes to take what is left of the light. Continue reading
Day 164 of 35
Usually I write something here. Today, I finally caught up on reading some of my very good friend Jade’s articles. After reading her work, I just want to be quiet. Read this: http://diacritics.org/2012/on-a-vietnamese-american-suicide-what-i-want-to-say-is Continue reading
Death / Fiction Writing / Love / Uncategorized / Writing
Day 148 of 35
As she watched Josiah repairing the wood-stove, she nearly wondered aloud. What the hell was she doing? Why come back here? She had no good answer for that; or, more accurately, the answer didn’t seem enough. This baby. Josie was once almost her father-in-law, but she had walked out on his son and this baby … Continue reading
Day 134 of 35
A father’s ashes in a blue box on the vanity. Bits of the last heartbreak handwritten on a window. A garden gone reckless for the winter. My secrets are not kept in the usual places. Continue reading
Day 100 of 35
Continued from Day 99 of 35: He took them apart, stripped them to their gears, cleaned and reassembled, and still, the ornate French mantel clock and the cuckoo were a millisecond apart, and the Grandfather was always a full tick-tock behind—its chime the last to announce the passing hour. I came home once and slept … Continue reading
Day 85 of 35
Mourning I went out into the mud and rain to watch stalled horses, nervous and full of heat, neigh and kick at thunder until the storm passed, and the ghost was given. Continue reading
Day 8 of 35
When I went to the desert last week to collect a few of my father’s papers, I drove past a shortcut my sister and I use to take on our way home from school. The small footpath, wide enough for two girls to walk side by side, would save us at least a 1/2 mile … Continue reading
Untempered Glass 