downed spruce trunk under green water a steady current rain drops on their cloud’s reflection on the riverbank a bald eagle beak-deep in a pink salmon carcass under its talon thick fog in the tree line at the foot of the mountain slow as dawn a call from a nearby fir the rhythm of a playing card between bicycle spokes frantic brown wings into the air forsaken salmon flesh on the shore for the seagulls
Tag: Writing
Feminist Masculinity
After Feminism Is for Everybody, by bell hooks.
You are 32. On your way to work, you listen to an audiobook where bell hooks talks about how difficult it is to teach boys feminism, how feminist masculinity is often ignored for simplified narratives of blame and finger pointing rather than rebuilding society. You are 27. During an English department meeting, a colleague from another school remarks how good you are at being the only man in the room. You are 25. On your daily walk around your neighborhood, your dad calls. He tells you about his family, the latest news about your cousin, how nonsensical it is her best friend to be a man. You are 17. You work in the kitchen of a restaurant. You mostly interact with servers, most of whom are women. It is taken as a truism: women get better tips than men; you belong in the kitchen. You are 12. During your sixth-grade class’s sex ed. unit, your teacher talks about biological differences between boys and girls. She singles you out for being a boy with long eyelashes, a trait associated with girls. You are seven. Your mom is driving you home from daycare. You ask her about her day. She tells you about work you don’t understand, coworkers that frustrate her. You ask her if her coworkers are her friends. She tells you men and women just can’t be friends.
Can’t Find the Words
After Swing, by Kwame Alexander and Mary Rand Hess.
The nation's pulse can be found in Charles Mingus's fingers walking on an upright bass. There's so much I want to say to you, so much I can't find words for. Have you ever heard Coltrane run up and down a scale, then deconstruct every rule you thought you knew? You're right in front of me, but I can't reach you– my hands trapped in my pockets, my throat dry as August sun.
I wasn’t good at being good
Each section is based on the Oxford English Dictionary’s word of the day from December, 2022.
I. carbonado, n.
Um, hello? I hope this gets to you at all. I know I haven’t sent anything in a while. I want to explain. And yes, I’ll get to the mark on my face.
II. finger trap, n.
I need to start at the beginning. You must have known I needed to leave. Whenever I had tried running, something tethered me — feet in quicksand. I didn’t know I’d actually break away. I didn’t know I wouldn’t be able to get back. I’m sorry.
III. amor, n.
I guess it was just that— Dad always loved you more. You had basketball trophies, positive comments on your report cards. He always said he never had to worry about you. I had shit; I had to earn his love. Sometimes, I thought I had it, but it would fade away like the doppler effect of a siren. That’s why I did all this: I had to aim so high, he’d be forced to see me.
IV. dunning-kruger, n.
I thought I had it— I thought I had it— I thought I had it under control. I swear.
V. eustress, n.
I knew what I signed up for— I was going to be in the first group of people to terraform Mars. I had the degrees, the years of research. My name was announced on cable news. I was a leader in our shuttle. People listened to me, asked me for guidance. I couldn’t get enough.
VI. palustrine, adj.
It was like when we were kids, back at the lake, catching newts in a plastic bucket. I always needed to catch more than you, staying out after the fireflies showed up.
VII. perfectibilist, n.
It was arrogant to think we could do better than this. It was arrogant to think we could start over. It was arrogant to think there was nothing here before us.
VIII. soz, adj.
I’m sorry all this is coming to you in pieces. I had to reconfigure our transmitter with spare parts of our landing rig.
IX. carnyx, n.
I took the controls in our final descent, convinced I should do it, only I could do it. I missed a switch, a small mistake, enough to damage the hull. An alarm echoed through the ship until someone else repaired the necessary parts.
X. bambi, int. and adv.
The repairs set us back several hours. When it was safe and I was finally allowed out of the ship, I stood on red earth, saw maroon mountains meet black sky, an overwhelming array of stars around a blue dot where I knew you all were.
XI. rantipole, n.
They stopped talking to me, stopped asking me questions. I could see hastily-constructed walls flash across their faces when they saw me in the hall. I offered to help; they said they had it under control.
XII. boykie, n.
This keeps happening. I always get in my own way. I go too far into the water, lose my balance in the silt. Why were my successes never enough? I couldn't just pass my tests, I had to be better than all my classmates. I couldn't just go to Mars, I had to lead the people who went to Mars.
XIII. yampy, adj.
Dad was right. You are the better son. You wouldn't have put the lives of your crewmates in jeopardy to serve your ego. He never made you attend your parent-teacher conferences. I had to sit there while he voiced every disappoint, while each teacher reached for any solution.
XIV. bretheling, n.
I joined the survey team to earn the crew's respect back. It involved walking alone, away from their bitter eyes. In addition to creating a map of the surrounding area, we were looking for somewhere to build our base. That's when I found the cave.
XV. ballyhoo, n.
I updated the map, sent an alert to the leadership team. They called me to the conference room, where they sat around a long table, cluttered with annotated reports and blueprints. I stood before them, detailed the cave's location; its approximate volume; how much time, effort, material it would take to build a sustainable base. I- I emphasized its safety.
XVI. devil’s coach-horse, n.
There were so many things we- I didn't know: the actual depth of the cave, the small holes within its walls, the boring insects who created them.
XVII. sambaza, v.
Our ship was modular, created to be dismantled, room by room, once a long-term location was found. I assisted groups of people pack, travel, and reconfigure their rooms in the cave. They thanked me for my help, my discovery, made eye contact with me again.
XVIII. dreidel, n.
We had a feast once everyone was housed in the cave, most of the landing rig left as a monument in the red desert for where our settlement began. People laughed, ate, played games. They were so happy. It would be the last time that feeling was shared.
XIX. carboy, n.
The next morning, Hisashi, our agriculturist, lead his team to establish micro- and macrocrops within and outside the cave. He asked for my help surveying the land, showed me all the tubes and bottles for his complex compost system and his set up for brewing beer.
XX. hagwon, n.
Many people invited me to help them, learn their roles. I was accepted again, fully. I was seen as a leader again. I was learning so much. Things were going so well.
XXI. rinky-dink, n.
So, you should be able to see the wall behind me. If it's not in focus, just know that the shelves have fallen over, the posters and pictures ripped. You can actually see on this shelf panel, the holes from the insects that live here. It fell apart slowly. An air leak in one of the rooms deepest in. Patch work covered it, we moved on. Then more leaks, more patchwork, until Gloriana died in her sleep.
XXII. mondialization, n.
Gloriana was the lead of the communication team. They were constructing the transmitter to report our progress back to Earth. Our first report, as you well know, was her death, no explanation or cause.
XXIII. lip-sync, v.
There was debate about whether to share that information right away. There was debate about whether to carry on like nothing happened. For days, we cosplayed professionalism: did the tasks on the docket, said words with no real meaning.
XXIV. zilch, v.
They left no one. There's no one left. I examined Gloriana's body, her room, to look for clues. Day by day, there was less of her, not natural decay, chunks bitten off her limbs.
XXV. christmas, v.
On Earth, I think it was Christmas when I made that realization. I wrote a report, took some pictures, presented my findings to the leadership team. Two of them were absent. We assumed they were on an assignment or were recording messages to send to their families for the holidays. We were wrong.
XXVI. hanukkiah, n.
The next day, the lights went out. Emergency flashlights under our cots lead us through the hallways. As we approached the power sector, there was a whirring sound, like an engine low on oil. When the door opened, our flashlights were whipped out of our hands by a gust of wind escaping through a large hole in the wall. Shards of Tenzin's sweater caught on its rim, their severed hand on the emergency shut-off lever.
XXVII. chindogu, n.
It all went fast then; panic has a way of exacerbating things. We huddled together, surrounded by machines that were utterly useless then. Gathered in one of the central modules, we concentrated our food, water, spacesuits, smuggled weapons and ad hoc ones.
XXVIII. bak kut teh, n.
Hisashi set out on his own, knife in hand, to find a specimen to examine, develop a strategy for attack. He returned dangling a beetle the size of a football by its antennae. It oozed a viscous blood, shade of mulberry. After some poking, prodding, he suggested someone should take a bite to see if its edible in case our food supply runs low. I volunteered. It all felt like my fault. It was the least I could do. As my teeth sank into its flesh, the floor rumbled, erupted.
XXIX. mugwamp, n. and adj.
A swarm of them fell like hailstones, bounced like rubber bullets, sank teeth and pincers into whatever they found. We scattered, ran for the exit, but there stood the largest of them, the size of a loveseat, shrapnel lodged in its exoskeleton, human blood in its teeth. Hisashi and I charged with sharpened table legs, hoping to distract it away from the doorway while others fled to safety. They all fell to the swarm, Hisashi fell when a pincer stabbed his stomach. Sharp pincers, legs scraped my face as I escaped alone, the captain of a solo-mission. I ran to the communications room, this room right here, through a drafty hallway, this room, the last lung to hold air.
XXX. dear john, n.
You’re going to learn about this through an official communication someday soon. I typed it up and sent it to NASA soon as I caught my breath. But, I needed you to hear it from me. I needed you to know I tried. I needed you to see my face one last time, know we fought back. I needed you to know no one else should come here.
XXXI. mukbang, n.
I can hear them now in the walls. They’re going to get in any minute now. I’m not going to make it back home. So, I just want you to know I lo-
Find Yourself in the Sky
As you watch the sun set into the Pacific from your picnic blanket on the rocky shore, head resting on a driftwood log, the sky becomes a spectrum. Bright pink around the sun's edge, dark blue above the tree line. People point at features you cannot see. Their confidence makes you look anyway. They see something up there for themselves, something that grounds them— a tether. Some point toward pink, some blue, some in between. You keep looking, but it’s all opaque.
a bedroom
a body on the floor a pool of blood on the carpet spatter across the frame of a picture someone in a robe with a diploma a chair in the corner under a pile of shirts and jeans spatter across an unkempt bed grey comforter with teal bedsheets a dresser messy with articles and pens necklaces and earrings spatter across a full-length mirror the post-it note affirmations along its edge a body on the floor under a thin white sheet
Starting Over
Each section is based on the Oxford English Dictionary’s word of the day from October, 2022.
I. light head, n. and adj.
Today is a new day. I’m going to turn it all around. Roll out of bed, complete a yoga routine with my phone propped against the lamp on my nightstand. A quick shower, a quick breakfast that I eat on my way to the bus stop. Nothing is going to stop me.
II. per fas et nefas, adv.
Headphones in as I approach the stop. No one is going to ruin my day. No one is going to bring me down. Lizzo will keep me afloat.
III. downpressor, n.
Bus pulls up, everyone files on, backpacks knock against each other, people, doorframes, seats. Bus driver’s voice mumbles through his expectations. It’s early enough that people quiet down for him, but I leave my headphones in, wait for his voice to stop, the bus din to return, the yellow dashes in the road to scroll by underfoot.
IV. alieniloquy, n.
The thing about the lines on the road is that they’re hypnotizing as they fly by. An intermittent, off-yellow flash carries your mind to some elsewhere without dimensions in time or space. And when they end at the parking lot’s edge, you suddenly remember you have to go to first period.
V. bobsled, v.
Hallways are full of bodies— a current pulls me right to Ms. Acevedo’s classroom. I don’t remember moving my feet.
VI. rhubarb, n. and adj.
Throat’s tight. Swallow the past, Tori; this is a new chapter. I put a smile on my face convincing enough to fool everyone at my cooking station.
VII. lightning bird, n.
I’m holding steady until he enters the room. His hair curling under the edge of his hat. A jolt in my chest— why do I want to cry and smile at the same time?
VIII. dump cake, n.
I look down at our counter, can’t look up, need to forget he’s here. Ms. Acevedo gives instructions; I don’t hear them. Shay does, assumes the role of our group’s leader. She tells me to measure and pour baking powder, salt, flour in a bowl and stir. I see his face in the powdery mountain range.
IX. dunnish, adj.
Eli asks if I’m done mixing. I nod and xe dumps my bowl into xyrs, mixes. I look up, the room’s colors seem to be on a dimmer switch— it looks like the sky an hour before thunder.
X. folx, n.
Ms. Acevedo address the class about over safety protocols. Shay and Eli discuss how to decorate our cake. I sneak a headphone through my sleeve to my palm, rest it against my ear. Hayley Williams yells about misery.
XI. ice blink, n.
The bell releases us to the sea, a long voyage to our next classes. Stare ahead at nothing; looks better than watching bow waves collide. Mr. Persson’s display for the Revolutionary War overwhelms his end of the hallway.
XII. birdscape, n.
Respite among war stories, since he’s in math class. I can stretch my wings, restart the new me.
XIII. bodgie, v.
New Tori writes her notes in cursive. New Tori nods her head while someone talks. New Tori asks questions during lectures. New Tori has her shit together.
XIV. chugalug, v.
I drink from my water bottle throughout third period, which helps me focus on geometric proofs— tonight’s homework. I get in the zone, my homework finished, ten minutes to spare, an empty water bottle. I ask Mx. Archer to go to the bathroom. They tell me to go fast.
XV. mediocritize, v.
You are never going to change. There is no “New Tori.” You are the same piece of shit you were yesterday. You are alone for a reason. It was obvious he’d leave. You are deluding yourself into thinking anyone would like you. I scramble for my headphones, play the loudest Sleater-Kinney song I find.
XVI. spreathed, adj.
I feel cracks spread across my arms as I enter the bathroom. They become deep, wide; demons rise from the dark crevasses. I feel the boiling spittle drip from their open maws, their claws pierce my skin as they push off to take flight. It burns and I scratch, hoping my nails bury them alive, but they keep sprouting like weeds in an unkempt garden.
XVII. ignorantism, n.
Shay enters the bathroom as I leave, gives a small wave, looks at my arms— radiant pink, thin scratch marks all over my forearms. She tilts her head, her brows concerned, starts to ask a question she doesn’t have words for. I tell her I’m okay.
XVIII. monkey bear, n.
I don’t know why I can’t calm. Why is it so hard to stand still, to quiet the thoughts that clash in my head like marbles against a mirror? I watch the branches on the tree outside Mx. Archer’s window sway in the wind as the bell rings. Everyone gets up and leaves robotically, but I just sit there, unable to look away.
XIX. dark thirty, n.
I see it clearly still— the madrone branches dripping into the sound as we sat in the bed of his truck, watched the sky above Vashon turn pink. My hand in his, a blanket between us and a cloudless sky. He poured coffee from a thermos, told me he loved me. He said he’d never hurt me.
XX. amoretto, n.
I was warm then; I thought it boundless. I wrote his name in different styles in the margins of my notebooks. I lost focus in every class. Doodles— abstract shapes, hearts— left on every scrap of paper in my backpack. I wrote poems, left them in his locker.
XXI. nightertime, n.
Mx. Archer asks if I want to eat lunch in their room, if that’s why I haven’t left. I shrug, nod, but really, I’m not there; I’m still lying in bed at three in the morning, looking at my phone, reading the last message he sent me to make sure I understood each word.
XXII. chuddies, n.
The chill of the metal chair on my thighs brings me back. I regret that New Tori decided her style is yoga shorts and large sweatshirts regardless of the weather outside or in. Bell rings and I’ve eaten nothing again. Frustration builds up behind my eyes; I’m supposed to be better than this now. Mx. Archer throws a granola bar at my desk, tells me to eat it on my way to class.
XXIII. gist, v.
Suffice it to say I inhaled the granola bar on the way to English. I listen to Big Freedia, need to explode to start anew.
XXIV. menehune, n.
How could I have ever thought I could start over overnight, as if it would ever be that simple? I need to confront him.
XXV. yo, int. and n.
Chemistry. That’s when I’ll see him next. That’s when I’ll tell him what’s on my mind. I spend English drafting the words I need to say to make him understand.
XXVI. drooking, n.
I stand outside the chemistry room, waiting for him to show up. I take a sip from my water bottle when I see him round the corner holding Melanie’s hand. There’s a white flash and I feel my fingers tighten into a fist, a scratch grow inside my throat. My water bottle points at his waterlogged hat and shirt.
XXVII. grrr, v.
In my chest, a beehive hit with a baseball bat, their wings bristle against my skin. I fly away before he says a word, before an adult makes me talk about it.
XXVIII. mosker, v.
What was once vibrant, warm, soured, cold and bitter as coffee dregs. My throat on fire, I heave by the mailboxes in the neighborhood behind the school. It’s over. There was never any chance. You don’t get a fresh start. You will always be the second choice, alone, a fucked up girl no one will remember.
XXIX. sabo, n.
He knew I’d be there. He knew I’d see them. He must have wanted me to see them together, to see how he’s moved on already. They’re probably laughing now at what a fool I am to believe there was any possibility of reconciliation, to believe I am worth anything to anyone.
XXX. ablepsy, n.
My vision gets blurry, goes black. I sit on the curb, dig my headphones out of my pockets. My phone trembles in my hands; I can’t see the screen, can’t make the sounds to activate Siri. Silence envelops me. I drop my phone, don’t hear it hit the asphalt. My breathing becomes muted; my chest heaves, but there’s no sound— no air. I don’t know what to do.
XXXI. jack-o’-lantern, n.
A light, an arm's length away, appears, slowly retreats. I reach for the light, a face amongst the dark, which welcomes me, accepts me. Why is it leaving? I reach, lose balance; my palms, knees slam the road. Pebbles make homes in my skin. The light fades like the sun over the horizon. I evaporate as mist in the void.
You get to work early.
You get to work early, pull up into the school’s empty parking lot. Three street lamps shine their pale glow onto dark asphalt. The sun hides behind some blue-black clouds behind an oft-forgotten portable. Your car eases into the same spot you always park in: five east of the planter with the sword ferns. Its door makes a soft sound as you open it; it sounds like how you feel when you stretch your quad after a jog. You walk across the lot, travel mug of coffee in hand. Crow caws echo off the brick facade of the school, a faint twee from a tree behind you. You stop, stand in the middle of the asphalt sea. Late October. It’s cold— not heavy-jacket cold, but hug-your-ribs cold. After a minute or so, you start walking again. You get out your key, slip it in the lock like a dagger into your victim’s back. You think about how improbable it would have been to actually pass the stealth check. You smile, shake your head, go inside.
Always Empty
Each section is based on the Oxford English Dictionary’s word of the day from September, 2022.
I. ghost hunt, n.
There’s just something missing on the battlefield. The thrill of the kill is there, the electricity of bloodlust, but iron helmets, visors hide their eyes. I want to watch the waves calm within their irises.
II. beeline, v.
In the old days, I’d strike from a shadow, dagger to throat. I could feel the tremble of their larynx on the blade’s edge with my fingertips.
III. tots, n.
There’s a big celebration at camp after our victory in battle. My steps through blood-soaked dirt become steps through drunken soil, potatoes float in puddles of wine and ale. They toast me as I pass, slurred cheers of “Captain!” I feel so empty.
IV. fabulism, n.
There was a future in my head when I started down this road. It did not include power, status; it included revenge.
V. leading light, n.
A singular ember in my chest — A dense anger. A vision of their bodies, rivulets of blood over the edge of our bed.
VI. endarkenment, n.
Their corpses felt me empty. The rush of the kill from a just vengeance, did not fill the void. I left town, got a job doing the only thing that made me feel alive.
VII. amazake, n.
A soldier hands me a chalice of some drink or other as I enter the captain’s tent. A strategist from the capitol holds up a communication scroll bearing the king’s face. He congratulates me on the victory, rambles about honor and other shit he knows I don’t care about.
VIII. Monogyne, n.
When you hold someone’s light in the palms of your hands, get to choose when and how you clench your fist, see it rise like steam between your knuckles— that is power. That is the feeling of control, of being alive.
IX. altaltissimo, n.
Does this dude ever take his crown off? When I bound my fate to his, I didn’t anticipate having to listen to his incessant blathering after every victory. It’s not even for me— it’s for the nobles who believe his brother suffered a fatal heart attack.
X. anjeer, n.
I look at the palm of my glove while King NeverShutsUp tangents to lofty goals for the next year. It’s stained with dried blood— mine and others, probably— I don’t remember when they were washed last. It looks like a noble’s robe would after a festival, covered with remnants of spilled wine, fallen fruit— trophies.
XI. rachmanism, n.
The strategist drops the scroll when he applauds for the king as he talks about defending the freedoms of his subjects. This behavior is beyond me. ‘Freedom’ and ‘subjects’ don’t seem like complimentary terms, but I don’t collect tax revenue, so what do I know.
XII. sibsomeness, n.
Sometimes, I fear what will happen to me if the king has his way— peace comes to the kingdom and he no longer needs me or my protection.
XIII. nash-gab, n.
The king asks questions about the battle after the comm scroll with his head has been properly restored. My answers are short, my nods curt. I wonder what it would be like if he didn’t fear me or he actually cared about the details.
XIV. deliverology, n.
I met the King when he was a prince in a tavern on the outskirts of his territory. Peasant clothes to hide his nobility or feign camaraderie, a pint in his hand. He slurred through ways the kingdom could be better under his name. Cheers and ale bounced off the walls with his exclamations. I asked what he was willing to pay.
XV. xennial, n. and adj.
In the predawn dark, he was torn between the traditions of his older brother and the ideals of the youth in his bones. But he saw it, for a moment, in the flickering candlelight: the crown on his head, the power in his voice. He offered piles of gold, a legal pardon; the future boredom was palpable. He stammered, sweat on his temples. I asked for a seat on his council, command of his army. He thought me a mindless killer. We shook hands.
XVI. psionic, adj.
He never asked me how I got rid of the king. People don’t like hearing the details of shadow magic, especially, I assume when your power would be questioned if anyone ever found out. I use it on the battlefield still: pits that swallow squadrons; shadows that consume brains, flood the whites of their eyes. After our first victory, he asked me how it was done. I told him, “Like before.”
XVII. segotia, n.
The king closes his address by inviting us for a feast at his castle. The strategist accepts the invitation for both of us: a knee jerk reaction. The king’s face fades into the off-white of the scroll. He looked excited to see the people he considers his friends.
XVIII. bird dog, n.
The road back to the city is long. Soldiers practically skip in anticipation for a warm welcome home, feasts with their families. I keep seeing faces in tree bark— faces I’ve seen before, ones I haphazardly sent into shadows before the king found me.
XIX. requiescat, n.
Part of me remembers my wife— the way she’d knead sourdough with the heel of her hand, singing a melody in the morning light. I miss her then, want her soul to feel peace. But then, I see her fingers entangled in the hair of someone else: the alchemist with smooth hands; a thick, braided beard. I see their slit throats, their blood pooling on a bed I could never return to, and I wish her soul pain.
XX. parapublic, adj.
The king’s army is made of young men who break rank as we travel through a village outside the city walls. Rundown buildings, families in tattered clothes, who anticipate their return, who worry about and love them.
XXI. adyt, n.
I don’t stop them from running to the open arms of their families. I don’t force them to walk through the city to the castle. I don’t subject them to the king’s lengthy speeches, empty accolades. I don’t pressure them to eat mediocre roast in the king’s dining hall. That’s a job for me.
XXII. binge-watching, n.
Does this guy ever shut up? It’s astounding he’s capable of eating any food while moving from story to story. Is anyone even listening?
XXIII. sharenting, n.
I look between family portraits which line the walls of the dining hall. So many stoic children forced to stand at attention in perpetuity. Would it be so bad if someone pruned this tree?
XXIV. garbler, n.
A tendril of shadow coils around my boot, slithers over dried blood. I left a sham marriage just to enter into the cage of power. Misery and emptiness follow me like anchors slogging through loose sand. The shadow is hungry. I am hungry. My fingers twitch, nails ready to dig into flesh.
XXV. nosey, v.
Pay attention to the small actions: the way he flicks his wrist, talks with both arms, saunters across the hall. There’s information hidden there that’ll help identify his weak spots, expose patterns he never talks about. That’s what I need to kill him.
XXVI. stepford, adj.
The castle guard wear similar armor— shiny, the king’s sigil on the breast strong, but inflexible, slow. They go through rigorous training, all of them, mastering the same techniques, exposing the same weak spots.
XXVII. pretenture, n.
Humans build to keep out enemies, but shadows flow over them with ease. Yet another example of overconfidence, misunderstanding of our world’s nature. I slip along the lines of mortar between the castle’s stone, let threads of void ensnare the guards, flood their eyes with visions of tortured, mangled bodies.
XXVIII. melpomenish, adj.
The king’s chamber is filled with garish trinkets— objects to look at, no utility. Under thick quilts with intricate designs, his snores mix with the fireplace’s crackling. No challenge. I envelope the flame in a shadowy blanket, knock a goblet off the mantlepiece for the drama. His shoulders shift, a bleary investigation. His face when his eyes fell on me— exquisite.
XXIX. anonymuncule, n.
He begs, pleads for his life, offers riches, titles, land. He says they’ll find me out, whisper my name in every corner of the kingdom. Even in death, he just never shuts up. I grip his heart in a shadowy fist, feel its rhythmic tremors. I squeeze until it finally stops, until he’s finally silent, until the waves in his irises become stagnant pools.
XXX. leso, n.
I rearrange his body and his blankets to look like his heart failed in his sleep. Intricate patterns, expensive dyes, his quilt reminds me of the dresses my wife wore back when she was alive. And, like that, a void settles in my chest again. Always empty. All is fleeting. I exit under the cover of the dark moon.
the girl who lives in your mom’s house
the girl who lives in your mom’s house cries inside the bedroom walls when she thinks no one else is there. the girl who lives in your mom’s house tosses and turns at night, awoken by the slightest sound in the dark. the girl who lives in your mom’s house laughs at jokes she’s too young for but was forced to understand anyway. the girl who lives in your mom’s house stares into the bathroom mirror, not recognizing who she sees. the girl who lives in your mom’s house walks from room to room looking for you.