Winter drops the late afternoon sun into my bedroom window just after three o’clock. He hovers there— burning the edges of my closed curtains like an eclipse I can touch. He says, you have to invite me in, which I find charming. My palms hover over the fabric, pin-holed from cats, reminding me of that…
Tag: Poetry
Change is overrated
If there’s one thing that recovering alcoholics excel at it’s self-flagellation. Maybe it’s not just recovering alcoholics, but any one of us mid-way through life’s journey lost in a dark wood. It seems the first thing we ask is what can I change? Should I lose weight. Read more. Travel. Fix up the house. Find…
Black Widow
Your sleek, black body pressed on the stucco wall in my backyard should have frightened me, Latrodectus— But instead I felt like I did as a child, crunching through the woods, achingly aware of things greater than myself. I made your acquaintance then, discovering that you go days without breathing, you bond to vertical surfaces,…
DAY 90!
Another milestone today. I approach this one with a little more reckless joy than the last, but I’m still too afraid to dive headlong into the deep of celebration. I trust that trepidation though so I’m honoring it. I’ve been selfish of late. Eating right, exercising, indulging all the whims of my weirdness. Amazon packages…
Nepeta Cataria
If I accomplished nothing else today, I planted Nepeta cataria inside the broad mouth of a flowerpot leftover from my grandfather’s passing. I held a ponytail of her sticky locks and considered long the origin of her species, the ancient quality of dirt unearthed with five extra heaves of the shovel, and of Annie Dillard…
Independence Days
This slow Saturday breeze in my brain turned over an old photograph of us on my parent’s roof, Fourth of July. There I was, deep in the crook of your neck, my gentle grin holding the secret of your scent and my eyes the knowledge of our daughter, beneath our bodies, sleeping on that tiny…
Sobriety Poet 