Narrative

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  How are the dots connecting? I know how my taste is formed. It’s already on the first page if you see the world in stories, as I do.   —–   Here’s the first story: I am. And the … Read More

Bedroom in Arles

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  In my hour to read Sweetman’s Van Gogh, order seeds for the garden, frame a print, I stood instead at a window, watching you children wild with joy at a wild, twilit sing-along with a chorus of robins, light … Read More

Night Poem

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  Your body diminished at my touch. It hurt, though who I’m not sure. Don’t stop loving me I said, being brave. But it was a dream—love, and my speaking of it.

I Dreamed I Forgot

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  I dreamed I forgot who I was—the last woman to love you. You knew me as a girl, when joy was edgeless, and required no work. Cinquefoil in the field, our knees green. In the dream I was laughing, … Read More

Night Poem

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  The wind gossips, though most everything stays sleeping, the stars in the black pouch of heaven, stones, the unexceptional foliage, poor wind with so much to say and no one to say it to.

Life as a Mirror

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  It was a relationship of listening. Listening while we ate dinner or sat on the couch. Listening while you answered my questions. Listening while you complained about your ex-girlfriends. Nodding, as if I understood. I watched as you told … Read More

Morphology

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  Give her the name of the longest river in the world or call her river. Either way, she will collect and hold and move everyone from one place to another. You will look into her sometimes and see the … Read More

Particle, Little Part

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  She ran to the forest like the women before her, and like them, she turned into a tree that the gods gave her name, a way to honor a woman, an object of desire. She multiplied into woods that … Read More

the day the tumor began (2)

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  a guinea pig, running loose in the grocery store, refugee from the pet shop next door. Word of the escape traveled more swiftly than the rodent did, and she could track its route by the sounds rippling from odd … Read More

the day the tumor began (1)

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  she rose early to swim. Laps, in the indoor public pool, an hour before the sun reared up. She reveled in a morning layered with contrast: cool air on her skin as she walked across the lot, clammy heat … Read More

Endorphins

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  On the fourth day, I was standing in the front yard stretching after a run (I don’t run), slightly high on endorphins. I could suddenly see everything O the purple spikes on the Pride of Madeira bush just coming … Read More

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