there is no rhythm to the remembering, / no time or space or elaborate calling
Tag: anxiety
the truth of it
words are fraying tethers.
the shift: the kids are back in school.
The interior of our childrens schools feel other-wordly now, dare we place a toe over the treshold.
inanimate
I thought of the end and / I met it for what it was.
the rockhounder
hound the ones with rounded edges
postpartum
it took a year for it / to die, shelled and / alone in a far corner of / the unkempt living room.
the rut
descend and dissolve
on why I can’t help myself
because I don’t / know how to know / it any other way
anxiety as a chair
the thought of it being anything other than a chair scares you.
catastrophizing as an art
you have the wicked ability / to paint flowers as death’s invitation.
Magic Mama 