My Mother’s Eyes
I pick up this morning’s newspaper and read another article about displaced Ukrainians, whose lives have been upended by a war instigated by Russia.
Non-Fiction
The Box
The bathroom medicine cabinet—It has been three weeks. This will be the easiest I think. It isn’t. I can’t stop the mist in my eyes as I toss everyday medicines left over from normal ailments, the healthy days, the pre-cancer days.
A Variation on Prayer
Leaving the gray, bleak evening behind, we enter the massive gothic splendor of stone, stained glass, gilded walls and fluted columns.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way
Who are these black figures, hovering around my bed like the dementors on the Hogwart’s Express? Am I dying? But there’s no bright light. Every breath is a struggle.
Garbage Island
“For now, through heaps of oceanic garbage, the canyon between their father and I has been traversed.”
A Catalogue of Sleepovers
“What you love most of all is the way the sleepover allows you to seamlessly slip into your best friend’s family.“
The Tee Shirt
“Which one is the right foot?” I asked, confused. The CO said, “They don’t have rights and lefts.”
Mating Dance
“They hurdled our tree branches, threading the streaking space of the air as you and I have done.“
The Forest
“I opened my eyes to dad boots, your mouth silent as snowfall. Steady rhythmic steps carried us home.“