It is too hot, but still I dig and bury roots in the yard. My skin burns. I do not feel it, but days later I peel in the more delicate places, and the creeping thyme will not grow. Continue reading
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Day 10 of 35
Saki and then champagne. It was bound to happen. Continue reading
Day 9 of 35
My lover has watched her all day, fallen a touch in love with her blonde hair, the way she won’t look him in the eye, her stories of departure. What cannot be carried is left behind. He imagines not slippers beside her bed, but a valise and shoes made for sprinting. He calls her a … 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
Day 7 of 35
I go to the ocean for comfort, to feel her pull at my ankles, to watch her erase the evidence of my approach. Continue reading
Day 6 of 35
Today, in yoga, the instructor told me to breathe, so I did. She told me to let go of the parts of my body I did not need for the position, so I unclenched my jaw, released my neck, relaxed my shoulders. She told me to breathe, again. I am a child in this class, … Continue reading
Day 5 of 35
She would never again perceive time as she had– her body felt too small. She pulled the clock from his wall. Glass shattered. Gears came apart. She sat on the laminate. He found a broom and began sweeping around her. Continue reading
Day 4 of 35
At least 2 years before I spoke to her again, I drove past my mother’s house. There had been a man I needed distance from for a day or two—a man I nearly married and eventually did not. My almost-husband is what I call him now. I mean it to be endearing. I mean it … Continue reading
Day 3 of 35
I have been thinking about an orange all day. I ate it two years ago in February at a rest stop off of Interstate 5. Don’t ask me which rest stop; which stretch of highway. I couldn’t tell you anything more than it was before Ojai, Ca and far enough away from Martinez, Ca, that I was … Continue reading
Untempered Glass 