All things Language, all things Culture
I took out the trash when you left. There are metaphors for these situations but nothing comes to mind tonight. There's only eggshells and coffee grounds and crinkled yellow wrapper from that horrid food we got last week. It was oily. It gave you heartburn. I think I am losing at this. This ending thing.… Continue reading Heartburn
The void is my friend. She has come to my door after ages. I fed her. Persimmons, cheese, rice made fragrant with lime leaves. I clothed her. In blue and silver. Silk and diamond. I poured her water from a mountain spring. I read to her the scribbles I have etched on my soul every… Continue reading Anatomy of an absence
I sit up a little straight every time your footsteps approach. Pit pat pit pat they come, and then fade away.Always the same. Saunter. That's the word. The smell the sound the touch. The touch of a saunter is creepy. Yet I always forget that when you touch me. Touched me.I have listened for that… Continue reading The Unchosen
I made a deal with the Devil, or was it God? Now I pay my debts.
I hate how scared I am of growth. Of things changing and taking on new shapes. Of new places, of movements, of new thoughts emerging and old ones dying out. I hate how quickly the growth spreads through me, like a creeper well sustained by rain and sun. How quick the world changes, how hard… Continue reading Creepers
We are the children of clouds, hiding from the day and waking when the Sun sets. We walk gingerly among the remains of the day; concrete, sand, and stones. We press our ears to still-warm walls, and listen to the sound of heat leaving their frames. It lingers a while, echoing through the brick and… Continue reading We the Children of Clouds
On days like this, I don't want the pain to stop. I wake up dreaming of sumptuous steaks in golden platters and my stomach turns. The weak but insistent rays of a late-winter sun struggle against my dusty blue curtain and I try to wipe off the smug faces of my uncle and aunt sitting… Continue reading Love Will Keep Us Alive
This is an account of my first relationship, an abusive one. It broke my mind and body, drove me to severe self-harm, and a decade on I'm still not completely free of the repercussions. Here is what my mind remembers from those days.
You wake up and it's foggy. Outside the window and inside it. You are moving too slow, as you always do. Your ears are filled with the strange buzz of no-noise and your mouth is chalky with no-taste. You have one thousand things you should have done by last night and they are not done… Continue reading It’s Foggy in Here
From a specific angle, they can pass off as dementors prowling through a stark white fog. Except, these don’t seem to suck out soul, rather they are born of a soul in desperate need of lighting its own weight. She paints ravens in flight. She also paints still life, rugs, slippers, potted plants, café interiors.… Continue reading Ravens for A Woman I Think I Know
In Other Words 