The same question comes up every time.
“If it was so bad, why did you stay?”
And, every time, the same answers.
“Because I didn’t have the strength.”
“Because I didn’t know I could.”
“Because I loved them.”
That’s why I stayed.
Tag: microstory
Space Cowboys
Refiners of the new frontier, one day they woke, heads sporting helmets rather than hats. No longer rustling cattle, they surf the edges of the known. Like mighty giants, they forge a path for us. Leaving civilization behind to uncover something new.
Someone gently rapping.
A fluke, a quiet, shuffling sound. The tapping came, unasked for, as I sat writing. A tap, a rap, and then silence. I checked, but I saw nothing. Back to writing, my pen, unguided by my hand, had scrawled out, simply, “HELP.”
His eyes were bestial, his voice a storm.
I wrestled it to the ground
my heart
pounding
in my chest.
Its claws were knives
but it wore
the face
of the man
whose voice
once terrified me.
Victorious,
I buried it at the edge
of a monument
commemorating
my victimhood.
Nudity: An Ode
warm winds touch bare skin
softer when it is
divested of restraining fabrics
water kisses more gently
the flanks we bare
so willingly
similarly,
eyes see more clearly
into eyes
stripped of defenses
laid nude like
heroic marble
standing tall
and unafraid
Photo credit: Self portrait of a reclining Amelie Rives Chanler. (MSS 8925. Photograph by Petrina Jackson)
a miniature offering to a new friend
a notification
your small face
encircled
a query
a question
a note
a gesture
new you may be
but this friendship
feels ancient
and makes me want to give you
some grand thing
to balance out
all you have
already
given me
Sister Mary
The day heaven escaped
Hell did too.
And you, all gentleness and piety
stood behind the altar
fingers pressed
to the folds
of a Bible.
Praying for a way out.
Praying to know the end
of the story
you started
with Amen.
The Dissolution of Fear Itself
It eats at me
a gnawing thing
burrowing deep, it
settles into muscles
and organs.
I breathe it
into sentences
here
with you.
As I reveal it,
I feel it
breaking.
Teeth and jaws
melting
into bones
and sinew.
I’m fearlessly reborn.
Featured image from the Sleep of the Beloved series by Paul Schneggenburger.
Things that Christine taught me
A List
– The names of trees, rocks, and animals.
– The song of wind through blessed throats.
– How to be kind.
– How to be strong.
– The art of perfect hugs.
– How to make pancakes.
In brief, she gave instruction on how to love.
Oh brother! Look where we are.
I cannot change the past, the way we
fought like cats fight water
the way I pushed you
grasping hands and spindly legs
away from me
so firmly
now we sit together
bourbon balanced between older hands
and I still can’t apologize.
