For a long time it was mostly my tail that you tried to read. It does give me away—the feeling comes like a shiver and sometimes winds my tail up sloppy like a drunk. But now after nine years you also understand when you have sad eyes and I can taste ocean on your… Continue reading A Dog, Understanding
Month: September 2019
The Upper Hand
A web shivers in the air tethered to a thread between my Adirondack chairs, a spider at its head. The spider hovers silent there— assassin in the shade— until the time I need a chair and ruin what it's made. We never know what may come to claim our foundations: a hurricane of… Continue reading The Upper Hand
Disappearing Paths
Some people might describe this yard as plain: the locust trees and rosemary, all green mother ferns and privet shrubs that grow around the stump where children played; some gnomes my son gifted to me, he thought a joke--- like volunteer plants that want to poke through disappearing paths---(though most I wanted.) There used to… Continue reading Disappearing Paths
The Back of a Young Boy’s Neck
He tosses another stone at the waves. I don't see it fall---only the back of his neck, so small and birdlike it makes me inhale deep---in that moment I'm struck by the dusting of sand on his left ear, the slightest glimmer of late summer sweat, the little boy shoulders---strangers to fear--- and downy skin… Continue reading The Back of a Young Boy’s Neck