The tree across the way is clinging to its final burst of persimmon red. I’ve watched it, week by week - the lone shock of color in a sea of naked branches, gray sky. The elements have tried to claim it for their own, crawled their gusty fingers up the trunk; their efforts only... Continue Reading →
I trace droplets down the glass, trails crystallizing in the icy air.
Your ears hang heavy with Nefertiti earrings. You watch these straw haired straight hipped girls - how different they are from you. You inflate, tell stories that balloon into tales part truth, part fiction. But I know this bridge you’re building won’t reach their walled-in shores.
They hide behind screens obsessed with followers and comments. They aim with dexterity, their words sharpened to pierce - insecurities bleed in their wake.
A break in the wind ushers forth soft golden light - calm before the storm.
Gently, you cradled my ankle, examined it with care. Proclaimed you were going to be a doctor. Four years my senior, I wanted to impress so I shared my dream too: follow in the footsteps of my parents and aunts and grandparents. Aim higher, you said. So I did.
And maybe the locks that fell held those stories, the part of me who was before - some days it’s hard to remember her.
So much depends upon the interpretation of texted words that follow seemingly weightless off-handed remarks. *The title is a lyric from Imogean Heap's Telemiscommunications
So much depends upon the golden shock of brittle leaves, the seaweed bite of a November breeze.