Author: cc
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to live for eternity
It’s strange, I don’t remember Thanksgiving much as a family and I’m not sure why. I wasn’t a food-motivated child until grief and separation made me reach for comfort. I don’t think of holidays in terms of sitting around the table and considering what was on my plate. What privilege, I know. I think of…
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“To be lost and to be found, that is the life span of love.”
Ever get so sick of your own brain that the only solution is to dive deeper into what it’s consuming or loving? Yeah, I don’t know what I mean by that either. IT’S A LIST, BABY! 1. A perfume fixation When I was a young girl, my mom worked as a makeup artist for Chanel.…
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Dosing 🎧
I’m sorry it would seemyou intrudedin this moment where my feelings of safety have beenruptured. I have been told, “You are the eldestdaughter, despiteyour birth order.” I’m sorryit would seemyou caught me at capacity.I’ve beenholding a networktogether for too long, and I’d like to stop. I notice sometimes,those one or two line doses feel like…
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Transluscent Gloves
I’m trying to make sense of what I narrated in my Voice Memo app this morning. I’d like to turn it into something. I keep thinking of translucent gloves: wet and buried in mud. It feels like the stack of unanswered text messages sitting inside my phone, open loops that go against my character. Against…
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Superhero Vaginas
I curse thee algorithm and our phones listening to us. The last ad I saw was: “Your vagina is a superhero.” All because I’m admittedly both curious and interested in learning about perimenopause. I can’t help myself. I know what my hormones do to me thanks to PMDD; I’m not about to finally experience relief…
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the Moon in Leo
Sitting on the cold floor in a patch of warm sunlight, with Gigi circling me.I text my boss, “I’m working from home to watch her.”She’s been on the mend from a pancreatitis flare up, and I think we’re finally in the clear. I kept her (and her seriously stinky butt) out of the crate and…
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Boom Boom Math
This equationhas no resolution.Light floods a roomwith someone who is see-through,and one who looks away.Inside the gaps that feedan undercurrentof creative selfishness,I hopelessly look foran answer that lives insidemy finger makingdoodles across water vapor trapped on glass.Later, on a chilly firewood scented evening,I touch shoulderswith friends.Their laughtergrounding me,reminding meI’m fine with whatI don’t understand.(Daily Writing…
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not being real
From a second-floor balcony, I hear a sneeze that sounds forced and theatrical, followed by a friendly hello.
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Marian’s Bike Rides
She’s become a familiar landmark, like the curves of the road she glides through effortlessly.
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a Death Doula on yearning 🎧
I wonder what she is feeling for, what she is noticing, as I talk at her. Because she is a death doula, we often come to the topic of death, which I find equally soothing as the moment she wraps a heavy hot towel around my neck and face.
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Everglazed
… I see the old couple who have their own Saturday routine. The husband always taps the window and waves excitedly at Gigi, not me, to be perfectly clear.
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Silk Walled World
Beside it rests my childhood bear, which doesn’t strike me as odd. Pappy’s glass eyes seem waterlogged, as if they’ve absorbed a thousand tears.
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my Talisman
And my favorite, a piece of selenite (Satin Spar), sacred to Selene, the Greek goddess of the moon.
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You & Ube & the Sky
You can tell who closed efficiently by the neat rows of chairs, angled just so; other mornings it’s chaos, with paper chef hats and chopsticks scattered for squirrels to drag away.
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The Tower and the Boxer
The night before, the electric in my house kept flickering. One room smelled faintly of smoke. “Costly?” I ask, pushing her to continue.
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Last Nine Days of Poetry Sedation
I left poetry books everywhere. On top of the washing machine and on end tables and bookshelves, not stacked neatly.
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Chocolate Berry-Cherry
because goddamnit if we aren’t being the pinnacle of health so we may be lucky to die with our skin still glowing