Popping lids
Apples put to bed, the children’s voice distant. Rattle-tap, rattle-tap go the busy bottles until the gas dies. Then silence. Lids popping, shutters snapping closed on another summer. CLICK TO LISTEN TO THE RECORDING
Bagpipes
Eyes and ears wide open, bums on hard wood, bodies twitching. Silver fish and the words washing like water. The rattle of medals. The mic listing in the waxy hand. The years unwound. Sisters grown into women. Not fallen, but dead. CLICK TO LISTEN TO THE RECORDING
Spring Thaw
Box the crates of rejection letters, and stash them in the drip line. Ball up the sticky notes and stuff them in your cheeks. Shred the divorce papers, the receipts from houses ago. Stop at the top of the stairs by her meaty fist, years since you circled it with your fingers; years, as the…
Thanksgiving walk
In the season of Hush Puppies and leaves dry as brown bags, the earth wears tweed. CLICK ON THE RECORDING
Chandler & Price
Sage advice if it were true. But five years out and the world full of stalkers & critics & ex-husbands with strong opinions on week-end show hosts and god know what else flotsam sitting righteously before their radios and I am quite prepared for this to be a good day to to die. If only…
Bath Time
These ridges and hollows and uncharted land — side by side we sing our way home. CLICK ON THE RECORDING TO LISTEN
The Road to Wayne
One-way bridge on the road to nowhere. You zig. I zag. Our footsteps on the empty earth. CLICK ON THE RECORDING TO LISTEN
Warbling
A cloud of dust and my children’s voices warbling over gravel. The thing about going slow is that you get to go slow. CLICK TO LISTEN TO THE RECORDING
High Water
How we recoil when the water rises, when software interrupts the news. Who’s in charge here? The thunder last night. The kids saw lightening everywhere. Now, the house quiet, their absence pulled taught, I pace, restless as a dog. CLICK ON THE RECORDING
Foot Race
Oh, we understand our ridiculousness. Our knee socks and plastic bottles strapped to our waists like warriors from the land of mini-vans and family calendars. Our matching jackets. Our lubricants. Our expensive shoes and cheap talk. The watches we buy. All the slaughtered mornings and the final snap of the gun. But run with us…
Kensington Bells
Oh, hands on bells, your joy brief and ever so slightly disfigured. You stop us with our groceries to wonder. CLICK TO LISTEN TO THE RECORDING
Interlakes
The sky falls, the fire licks. Oh, gentling smoke we are all dancing elephants. CLICK ON THE RECORDING
Gooseberry
Morning, minding its business. May two-four debris scattered to the wind. CLICK ON THE RECORDING TO LISTEN
River Running
The river clears its throat. Shimmies right, then left. The children’s cold fingers pulling at its coat sleeves. CLICK ON THE RECORDING TO LISTEN
Red-winged blackbirds
Call it summer, call it promise, call it radio from a Dodge patiently polished. We lay on our backs in the sun that month, holding vigil for September. CLICK ON THE RECORDING TO LISTEN
Train coming around the tracks
The silence was the most disturbing part. The whole world standing staring at these metal sinews tripped and quick-frozen. Now with summer at its heaviest, the air burning with the ingratitude of August and the back-and-forthing of combines. There’s been much hail — we’ve huddled tsk-tsking, watching the sky like a felon. What did we…
Dawn chorus with geese
The birds and the reeds and the morning cows knee-deep in muck. Empty bleachers where the sky used to live. CLICK ON THE RECORDING TO LISTEN
Corral gate
Home is horseflesh, this salty lick across the prairies. A silver sky threatening rain. Home is these empty barns and the trail, still warm. CLICK ON THE RECORDING TO LISTEN
Auction
The way it goes so fast. All the neighbours out to pick over the bones. The old men wincing. Text on the button