Bless these shrimp from Sing Hing Restaurant that I am about to eat, that spent their life, hopefully, jetting about in odd, propulsive motion without minds and before language. Oh you little shrimp who involuntarily died for me, make me, like the intelligent whale, able to change you into song.
My grandmother taught me it is always Margaret we grieve for. I watch her sleep, catheter in. When she’s awake she’s partly here, leapfrogging. into lacunae of pasts, poor Elly who Emeline took in despite having 12 children already, the mountain doctor coming the day she prayed that God not take Nancy. He took a […]
The milk falls like bird-shit, spreading web-like as it hits the black surface of Sal’s coffee. “That’s not you, peaches,” he says, his long gray whiskers jailing the yellow of his smoking teeth. In the back office, Laz does blow, white as the gallon milk pulling my hand closer to the paper cup coffee still […]
Joanna was six, Her face, her smile, gigantic For her small body. She played her violin, And I remembered My father’s heart: They had to stop it for the surgery, Saw his sternum in half, Pull his ribs apart, breaking them. We watched the operation Through a window, Bright red blood on the doctor’s apron […]
In the university library on a Wednesday night after the semester has ended, you try to find an isolated table, but cannot escape the diversity of life that the library shelters in all seasons. The woman with red pants hidden behind a carrel twenty feet away cannot stop herself from burping over and over again. […]
My tiny mother is alone, dragging the huge sofa across the upstairs floor again, pushing her small bones. This is her rebellion against illness. Whenever it happens, the house’s parts start moving. My father is in the garden. When the house is in motion, he removes himself. He will not bear witness to rearrangement. Above, […]