For My Mother, Myself.

This morning, I sat in the very clean office of the surgery wing of the university health system. Unlike the kelly green of its other spaces, the green here is more, subdued spruce with amber accents and frosted glass dividers. Once ushered into an exam room, I sat, watching briefly, long, vinyl blinds sway against…

Against My Own Beginner’s Mind

CW: emotional abuse, trauma.     The phone rings, and on the other end is an angry man. A man who has called me to accuse me of things because I stood my ground with him a few times. It’s not even a man I love, but, I immediately feel the anger, a twitch in…

New Places

New places. Intersecting the softened edges of my own difficulty, worn down by years of practice in new places. New places. I have a little chair here, in this upstairs room I rent. It has been in my family for generations. The wood is carved and lovely, though it needs repair. And the upholstery my…

Friday Afternoon

Is it true for all of us, that even our mundane, daily activities seem a bit kinder when there is someone who loves us? I find myself, moving about my yard in the afternoon, the sweet smell of the flowers that are topping, what, honestly are lovely weeds. I almost regret pulling them. And I…

My Little Love

I turn on the drier. Close the door to the bathroom, so the sound of the failing bearing won’t bother you. It’s morning and I hear you stirring, head up on the bed, time for a walk. I open the back door, and I am careful to not throw the bottle to the recycling too…

Medicine Words

I’m sitting in the afternoon sun now, eating, inhaling. Mouthfuls of wild mushroom and dark broth—rosemary, shallots, thyme, cod. I dip the dense bread in, that the man who made the soup, brought to go with it. It tastes like medicine. I’m listening to the new Ryan Adams album—a change from the Janelle Monae, Alicia…

A Series Of Metaphors

Have you ever been in a car wreck? Or fallen hard at something? For me, it first came in a mosh pit at 15 when suddenly an elbow made direct contact with my face and I went down, sweaty and stunned, with pieces of my teeth falling to the floor. Next, it came skiing in…

Meat on the Bones

There’s a lot of meat on a chicken if you’re willing. Willing to plunge your fingers into a cold body after its been sitting a few days, and tear the flesh away from the bones, willing to again burn the meat of your own hands after you’ve boiled it down for stock and a mash…

Hunger

It is always the same. I am waiting, waiting for you. My life is shaped by hunger. But, it isn’t just my hunger for you, for your mouth, like some part of me will cease to exist if I don’t have it, a part I spend hours obsessing about, about how much I need this…

West Side, Wednesday, Rain, Pain. An Invitation.

I wake in the night, as the rain starts. Staring into the dark, consumed with the rushing sound of tree leaves rustling and responding to the water pouring forth. I feel like the only person alive, awake. In this tree house, on the second floor of an old building, huge birches and oaks surround my…