A lightning strike and the balance of injustice tilted unjustly, millions of lives hemmed into the pants of just a few. A fog lifted then resumed, then lifted again, as if he could simply sit back and watch his girlfriend bleed in an urgent care center. Transferred by ambulance, she learns her baby has gone ectopic– best pray hard as her tube bursts, and fever strikes, believing God plays any...
Blue tulips in April are mine.I have claimed them all as my own.I allow them to cleave the groundyou watch them grow from,every act of agriculturea wayward rebellionbeneath a forgiving sun. I am at this moment the devil’s giftat communion, the air you takeas you swallow bread and wine. Divine is the art you attemptwith blades and vases, an army of colors,when the only one that concerns me...
I wipe tiredness from my eyes.It’s morning, another day survived. And so begins the drip of last-night scoopsof coffee into a mug, World’s Greatest Dad. I fail to measure up to that cup’s depth,a half-assed bundle of Irish rage and remembrance of children dancing gingerlyas I brood in my La-Z-Boy. I exchange mementos of saved ticket stubsand photos taken at the zoo in front of the...
My best friend’s life has been stripped to its essence. His living room is devoid of brash luxuries: no couches, no chairs. Twenty-eight years later, he’s still waiting for the right ones. His only photos are JPEGs on a computer. He likes to keep the walls pristine, freshly-painted Sherwin Williams Steamed Milk White every three years. I just don’t have the heart to sully such a perfect wall with...
Pink wet robin, a baby perchedon the end of a shoe,plucked right back into the nest,to be rejected if the oils on my hand aren’t too human. The alchemy of milk into caramel,a shifting of weight on linoleum. When the power finally cuts offthere’s a triangle of steak, a folded slice of bread, and beer. Wings sit in the back of geometry class.Mother of pearl at this angle, bending at the knee,she...
Damn the will. The day’s blotterhas given up the dead:a girl’s name and alleged act of treason.A wooden chair for her to sit,should her location be revealed.The plume, a plane, a vintner’s glass,the sprocket in a mechanic’s bag of tricks.I’d rather the search befor something regal than the alternative,a girl in a faded blue dress and a stitchof remorse along the hem. Her...
Each blade of grass pressed by the bottom of my feet, I walk in open opposition to those seated at the wedding where I should have been your groom. I had learned to speak American through a series of tapes that arrived in the mail, being out of place more a mood than the actual spot where I buried my face into a pillow. You look at me the way women look at the rib cages of Victorian corset...
We are projections on a sheet in the yard,suspicious spools of film liberated from metal cans.When there is nothing left to play, the children retreatto flashlight tag, and the women refresh their wine. The men huddle in the darkness.Someone is talking about the circus,and a boy on stilts who used to shout insults at the crowd.Your mama’s so short, she needs a ladder to pick up a dime. The...
A couple of women in hospital scrubssteal packages on porches. Whenthe homeowner checks the footagehe finds the culprit is unfindable,essentially anyone—essential or not.They parked far enough away so noteven sure of the car or whether theywalked a few houses down where theymight live. They are everyone andno one. The video is uploaded and sharedonline with neighbors. Very few seemto care. The...
Three years ago, before the separation,hate-spattered yellow, Sherwin Williams, the boundary of our bodies growing jagged,then dashed, to suggest disputed territory. I imagine you sleeping with the same intensityof a squinting cat. You are not asleep, yet things go more literally, smoothly,as when the fret at the foot of the floor grieves openly, the way morphine spiggles out the door and down...