Pieces of You
“I am so broken,” you say. Raising my head, I am struck by this new look in your eyes. Mesmerized, I don’t even wonder as…
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Writing is Dangerous
Writing is dangerous. It’s a broken bone mended wrong. A healing scab you pick until it bleeds. It opens wounds and forgets how to close them. Instead, leaves it gaping.
This Is What Death Does
That time you are eight, and you trip crossing the road, and almost get hit by the oncoming traffic. Your mother yells at you, and you hear the animal in her voice…
“Early Blossoms” and “Ontario Thaw”
Alone on a mesa, a pink crabapple tree embraces the wind, its branches reaching up and out like a menorah, its petite blossoms a pointillist image…
Vertical Girl
My outdoorsy boyfriend lived for the feeling of shoving his feet into one-size- too-small rock climber shoes and dangling off the sides of cliffs.
Finally, the Right Size
Already 5’9” at twelve years old, I never knew where my hands were until I bumped into a doorway or where my feet were until I tripped over…
Day of the Frying Pan
Whenever my siblings mention the frying pan incident, I laugh along with them, even though I find it tragic and and far from funny.
The Spider and the Bookcase
A Spiny Orb Weaver spider has taken up residence in the potted plants next to my back door. It is an odd looking creature…
Stilettos by a Gravestone
“Aargh, these weeds. And I was just here,” Shifrah Fogel Bernstein thought, as she got to her knees to yank out the invaders, the botanical equivalents…