Just used my own name as an adjective...
In the garden, I am the number one helper granddaughter/grandson— he’s the vegetable veteran, hands blending into the soil. My fingers clumsy and pale, the onion bulb to his roots. He follows, instructing and inspecting with as many “that a girls” as beans in my bucket; the weight driving the handle deeper into my palm.... Continue Reading →
The most limpid love I've ever been able was wasted at twelve years old. I held your hand once during Mass, but every other interaction has been me making a fool of myself. I imagined you blameless these past twenty years-- I cried when you never returned. A Valentine remembered, small compliments recorded. 'Just maybe... Continue Reading →
When Gramma died and papers needed sorting, we found siblings in the family, generations ago, named Silence and Hazard. Last two of ten and the only ones with names that break hearts forever.
I kept the piece with your face on it and never cleaned up the edges. I wrote “a real piece of work” at the bottom in blue Sharpie, the color of your eyes, before slipping it into the album.
It was just for one night and she still wasn’t entirely sure he wanted her now. Not her, just a warm hole. What a bad idea to write about him for the second time. He never wrote about her, except that one time where he referenced her vaguely in his online journal about how ‘sex... Continue Reading →
You were literally the first guy I saw and honestly, all I really wanted was to have sex with you. I knew it would end the way it did because of those sideburns.
Your three-doored orange car is just as distinct as all my stickers, so I know you saw me, whether you saw the bird or not. Not my worst fear, watching you slow turn home as I turned to text him. Had I been driving, alone, and not stuffed with sushi, we could have played another... Continue Reading →