• newfound loveliness
  • then all was fast floating, her kids way behind, as she shot back to junior high, when the boys still cared and she was the preettiest, a glossy-lipped thirteen-year-old who mouthed cinnamon sticks before she kissed
  • lacy circles
  • by the time my sister finally died, i was grateful in a way. it seemed to me that she'd been expelled into this world not quite formed. she was not ready for its weight. people whispered comfort about marian being called back to heaven, but my mother would not be distracted from her grief. to this day, it remains a hobby.
  • my mother breezed in, smelling like bright blue water.
  • once i was standing on a cold corner in chicago waiting for the light to change when a blind man came clicking up. What are the cross streets here, he asked, and when i didn't reply he turned toward me and said, Is anybody there? I'm here, I said, and it felt shockingly comforting, those words. when i'm panicked, i say them aloud to myself. I'm here. i don't usually feel that i am. i feel like a warm gust of wind could exhale my way and i'd be disappeared forever, not even a sliver of fingernail left behind. on some days, i find this thought calming; on others it chills me.
  • hollow of my neck
  • i always feel sad for the girl that i was
  • i could feel my limbs disconnecting, floating nearby like driftwood on an oily lake
  • my face felt closed and hot
  • it wasn't that i truly felt bad that i'd upset my mother--it was more that i hated any debits in her column
  • he laughed again, that same croak, like it was coming up from underground.
  • cheerleader staccato
  • like a sour fog
  • freckling my cheeks
  • her anger came off her like a stench
  • the face you give the world tells the world how to treat you
  • a child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort
nov 13 2018 ∞
nov 14 2018 +