thoughts on water
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…we built and we built and we built
and the housatonic knocked them all down
and the boys got mad
and they yelled at the river
for acting like a river
When I was made of wood
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I was the barn beside an old road,
stuffed with hay and cats and oats
filled with rays of sunshine,
spiders on all my wooden bones.
Babyloss: A Fairytale
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We are the outcomes they used to chide us for worrying about. Witches and 13th fairies. Shadows in the night. Medusas. Outcasts…The 1 in 160, the one in a million.
Read MoreGone home
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The snail carries its home on its back and keeps growing that home as it needs to, though I like to imagine it can, like a hermit crab, discard one home for another when the first just won’t do. A falling star, like the one I saw above the mountains on the night you left us, shoots off into the atmosphere and burns itself off. Where have you gone, little one? Where did you find to make your home, alone, in the wilds, without me?
Read MoreDates
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If this was my reality, I wouldn’t need to remember the dates when our medical team failed her, the dates I used to punish myself for not knowing she needed me most and demanded more from the medical staff. If this was my reality those dates would have fallen out of the palm of my hand the moment she was born alive as new dates filled my mind.
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