Category: creative writing
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Dear iphone, We are not so different, you and I, aside from the blood pumping in my veins and our obvious size difference, me so large and pillowy soft compared to your flat hard rectangular slipperiness. Oh, you go everywhere with me, like a shadow or a best friend (but maybe you are more shadow…
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Today is my birthday. So much has happened since I exited my mother’s womb those many years ago. The story of my birth and my mother’s labor are lost forever. All I have are a few hazy details. “Oh I had twilight sleep,” my mother told me. “No memory of any of it,” she said,…
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(short fiction) Heartshaped Vaguely heartshaped, that’s how you described her face, and I always imagined her—with my child’s-eye, literal imagining—as having a face the color of a pink valentine’s candy heart, a face with a pointy chin and also big eyes made of chocolate, because you said hers were brown and melty. That’s how I…
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I, too, am from a sift of lost faces from patterns I can’t untangle from an endless string of cats purring
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back through time I lumber back through time unrooted over boulders gap-eyed water glinting pink sunset unrooted I slide through mud into sand into lake stone wash hillsides caving in I am caving in all I have to hold onto all I can carry this basket, sweet-grass woven Inside is my pacifer rubbery round I…
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Never lose hope, my heart, miracles dwell in the invisible. —Rumi love poem to the world, #16 The way my brain flares as I dream of you, electric while purple finches sleep hidden in dark branches how egg met sperm in warm depths and became you while the soul of my mother sang in…
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Dear Senator Portman, Can you tap into that part of your soul that unlocks and opens up with compassion for your neighbor? You did once. Part of me, that hopeful, naïve girl raised in a suburb that was “nice” and had “good schools” believes you can. That’s the sliver of me that tenaciously refuses to…
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Fear-based attachments are physically addictive, states the psychiatrist in the book I’m reading. (Is that why this nightmare isn’t over yet?) Explains things: why ugly hazing rituals cement bonds why that friend of a friend won’t leave her abuser (Oh, and she may also know he’ll kill her, if she tries, but people will still…
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I took my car to the dealership this afternoon. I brought my work along, dreading having to tune out the flash and blare of the ginormous big-screen TV in the “customer lounge.” Ironically, the last time I was at the dealer, trying to ignore the television, it was Inauguration day. Me, a woman who hasn’t…
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Another day, another prompt. Today I let my worry stone do the writing. Find something or choose someone, and let them write to you. See what happens. Dear E, Finally. I get to tell you my worries. About damn time. Our relationship, up until now, has been entirely one way. From that moment on the…
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