Outside

Eye contact becomes language as lips disappear, leaving only eyebrows over pools of so-much-to-say welling up on the inside. Outside, the Earth breathes. Outside, the hen still clucks in the garden and today, the way the sunlight bounced off the green watering can, her tiny fingers and gaptoothed smile as… OutsideRead more

Mending

Grandma used to snack on sweet onions she kept in her purse,alongside society’s disposables—napkins, bread-bag ties,safety pins she turned into jewelry, or magazine picturesshe framed with bits of lace that I’d hang on my wall,next to the rock-band posters, back in the days when I thought success was measured in… MendingRead more