They get ICE CREAM, more sugar-shit. He says SHIT, he says DAMN IT (slurred m-sound) and OH MAN, but I don’t call him little man, just baby, just boy, just champ sometimes.… more
They get ICE CREAM, more sugar-shit. He says SHIT, he says DAMN IT (slurred m-sound) and OH MAN, but I don’t call him little man, just baby, just boy, just champ sometimes.… more
I had read that though their bodies were emptied of organs, and filled with sawdust, that the hearts of pharaohs were left untouched. That before they were sealed inside their tombs, their mouths were slit through layers of linen—opened—because they believed in breath in the afterlife. What did I believe in?… more
When my therapist said you were a terrible father, you flared up, almost cascaded out of my mouth.… more
I did not know what rape meant and she did not tell me. But she did want to know where I had heard the word.… more
Dive deeper into the pool. Feel the spidery awakening. This is how you learn the rapid, shallow breathing of survival. A choice is a fork in the road you cannot return to.… more
His hand is quintessentially, unashamedly male. Large and barren of moisture. Fingernails so short they betray a disfigurement, the fingertips shoving them out of the way. No, he merely clips them short. With his teeth.… more
He doesn’t meet your gaze but traces the lines of a T Rex with his little finger. Your fingers itch to hold him, smother him with kisses, but nobody taught you how to talk to children about illness or changes in your physical appearance or the struggle.… more
If you’d shared even a shard of your sorrow with me, I might’ve sooner had the blessing of being pierced with the truth of why: why you needed the sweet justice of Pam Grier’s sass and strength; why you needed to see a good woman get away with doing a bad thing.… more
The contrast of this monochromatic life is startling. We will eventually change our funeral attire and change the lens to gain a wider perspective, not so zoomed in on this noir summer of waiting, of letting go.… more
They’re prepping him for surgery now. IVs inserted in matchstick veins, secured with tape, fluids dripping at a hypnotic rate. “You’re going to feel a prick,” the nurse alerts him as she aims yet another needle at him like a dart. I am a prick, he thinks.… more