apart

winter-worn bark clutched my skin the trunk cast a shadow in the treehouse where I clasped your hand quiet fingers laced beyond their line of sight my hands shook mint leaves into teacups fluttering, sifting, forgotten in those early hours when we were the most crystalline versions of ourselves the newsprint meant to wrap your dishes […]

Articulating Memory

My mother was born in the forties.  I was her fourth daughter, born a few years into her fourth decade.  But the number four has never seemed particularly important to me before now, just another series of facts creating the pastiche of my generational identity.  The stagnant facts of my life, the answers to getting-to-know-you […]