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…

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…

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…

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…