Tag: poetry
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Over Halfway with Sealey
I have about nine days left and I’m three ~60 page books behind. Which feels as heavy as running inclines when your legs are done.
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Seven Days of the Sealey Challenge
I diligently read and became entranced by Heather Christle’s The Trees The Trees. Oh, how I saw myself in her roots and her ruthlessness.
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Ujjayi
dripping into triangle pose,with strong legs anda twisting core,my palm sliding downsore, soft shinsto reach the floor,and my eyes, which ought to be fixedon my opposite hand,are momentarily fixed on youand the way you like to watch.powder-pink carnationsin a cobalt-bluetranslucent pitcher.your unbuttoned,secondhand-ownedNaked & Famous shirt.the conversation you decide to startwhile I’m in the most difficult…
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Muovi il culo, è Pasqua
I love the way we sort of free falldown the stairs in the morningsfor our walk.But especiallyon holiday mornings.I think about someone my ageawake to watch their childrenexperience the plastic sensationsof their Easter basketwhile they sip a coffee.But for me, it’s different—and this isn’t to say one version isbetter or worse.I love the stillnessthe normally…
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A sparkling powder in a puff
when I was nine,I wrote a pleading letter to my sister who at seventeen, maybe eighteen,had left our familyto live with her birth father. I didn’t know what I was feelingwas abandonment. I wanted to be her.But like an elder sibling sometimes is,she moved through the worldwith a kind of flickerelusive,hard to predict,often difficult to…
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Take a Nap-a
I fall asleep gigglingto Sarah Jessica Parker as Carrie Bradshaw,Recognized by all asAnnoying or beloved—For her shoe addiction,Her emotional bigness over Big’semotional avoidance,Or the missed chance withFurniture-making, golden-retriever Aiden. But I see her differently:A pun-loving comedy genius,Staring at buildingsJust before she leaves them. I’ve rewatched this showOnce every decade since my teens.And now, at thirty-eight,It…
