Humanity: Raw & Unfiltered
When he found you, you were like a caretaker of living vines. You walked free up and down rows of collected lives, learning their ways, seeing the value in their twists and turns. He licked his lips, shook his jailhouse key in anticipation of the mayhem he would bring your Read more
You have wandered this road for a long time. You have left versions of yourself along the way, like sluffed off skins of earlier snakes. There are times when longing pulls you back to examine the scraps of tissue paper skin that hint at the nature of these other selves. Read more
For a while, you lived in a room without a TV Or a garbage disposal, and it was so quiet You heard the refrigerator moan, two dogs Barking at each other in the alley, somebody On the roof watering. You’ve been alone all day Except for 10 minutes when the Read more
The shape of heavy tears streaking down, earthwards, journeying to find our loved ones faces, again The shape of trembling lips the very moment we recall their forevermore absence as we write the date, on this day their birthday The shape of the book on the shelf in the store, Read more
“You look tired.” Yeah. “Late night?” No….no, it’s not that. I’m tired of trying change; of trying to heal from the trauma; of trying to discover a plateau of self-acceptance; of trying to be an adequate person, and better wife; of trying to worry less about being a good mother. Read more
Baltimore, Maryland July 1985 I curled two fingers under the chin of my mask and tore it off. I chipped away at myself with the tip of a syringe when no one else would do it for me. The nurse’s assistant, the friend of a friend’s cousin from the suburbs, Read more
We stood over you with the dropper of oxycodone, trying to get it in the tiny pocket inside your cheek, the three of us, like The Witches of Eastwick, but a lot less funny. Your jaw was clenched tight like a clam because you were about to die, only we Read more
