I asked my mom, once when I thought she was finished with him, what she liked about my dad. My dad was kind, according to her. Actually, according to a lot of people. It felt weak, but okay…whatever. He wasn’t really around much, emotionally. And I became an “only...
February 2022 Writing
Paganini #3 {Tit for Tat}
Outside Sienna, black clouds descended onto the hills, thunder and lightening like God rock-starring all the instruments in anger or groove—the spite of not being able to compose the imaginable—all our failures a horrible symphony. The carriage wheels spun in the mud....
The Magician
He totters to the staircase, grips the bannister to steady his hand, and lifts himself onto the stage, left leg, then right, left, right, like a tired soldier. His hands can’t fasten the hook and eye of his cape and it slides down his hunched shoulders. Dust fills the...
The Hole in our Hearts
Everyone in town thought they knew my sister, Dani, by her big boobs, her full lips, the pink shimmery lip gloss she liked to wear. I heard all the rumors, all the names. Slut. Jail bait. Bimbo. Drop out. Runaway. Delinquent. Even if I had to use Mrs. Swimmer’s...
What Lives in the Silence
My mother and I used to watch the television show Providence together when I would visit. When the ghost mother appeared to the daughter to comfort and advise her, always clothed in the dress she’d worn at her daughter’s wedding, my mother and I would exchange a...
Where There is a Secret
Where There is a Secret… Secrets by their very nature require deceit—something must be kept hidden, something must not be disclosed. This tends to lace secrets with danger, a dark amber honey hidden below the surface of things. What appears may not be. A happy...
Lay of the Land: Lessons Learned
In the Milwaukee neighborhood where I grew up, all the kids knew what country their grandparents came from. We called it our "heritage". When our fourth grade teacher asked the class to give a report about where our grandparents, or parents, were born, and be able to...
Droste Effect Armageddon with Infinite Recursions
I. I’m a liar Been spinning yarns Since I was a snotnose Little lies Big ones too The kind that trip you up The kind that keep you From falling down &, especially, the kind that make for a good story Never let the truth Get in the way of a good story...
The Moon and Me & Fully Loaded
The Moon and Me On the back road that night I was indecent yet also incandescent the moon and me glowing cryptic with our separate shame A truck flew by then screeched I should have run but one heel was broken and it was black out but for the moon and those...
What?
WHAT? I registered my daugther to a ballet class, she is five years old. Her cousins are already part of this class since several years. I am going to follow my brothers’ idea . He lives in Ville mount Royal, and I live in cote des neiges, since the course is open...
Uncle Gene says I can tell you this story, now that you’re old enough to listen.
My name is Molly Jean, and I am eleven years old. I’m named after my Uncle Gene. His real name is Eugene. I sit next to him on holidays. Around the table are Mommy and Daddy, Mommy’s younger sister, Kayla, Uncle Gene’s older brother, Roy, my older sister, leann, and...
Ask Me Another One
I asked my mom, once when I thought she was finished with him, what she liked about my dad. My dad was kind, according to her. Actually, according to a lot of people. It felt weak, but okay…whatever. He wasn’t really around much, emotionally. And I became an “only...
Paganini #3 {Tit for Tat}
Outside Sienna, black clouds descended onto the hills, thunder and lightening like God rock-starring all the instruments in anger or groove—the spite of not being able to compose the imaginable—all our failures a horrible symphony. The carriage wheels spun in the mud....
The Magician
He totters to the staircase, grips the bannister to steady his hand, and lifts himself onto the stage, left leg, then right, left, right, like a tired soldier. His hands can’t fasten the hook and eye of his cape and it slides down his hunched shoulders. Dust fills the...
The Hole in our Hearts
Everyone in town thought they knew my sister, Dani, by her big boobs, her full lips, the pink shimmery lip gloss she liked to wear. I heard all the rumors, all the names. Slut. Jail bait. Bimbo. Drop out. Runaway. Delinquent. Even if I had to use Mrs. Swimmer’s...
What Lives in the Silence
My mother and I used to watch the television show Providence together when I would visit. When the ghost mother appeared to the daughter to comfort and advise her, always clothed in the dress she’d worn at her daughter’s wedding, my mother and I would exchange a...
Where There is a Secret
Where There is a Secret… Secrets by their very nature require deceit—something must be kept hidden, something must not be disclosed. This tends to lace secrets with danger, a dark amber honey hidden below the surface of things. What appears may not be. A happy...
Lay of the Land: Lessons Learned
In the Milwaukee neighborhood where I grew up, all the kids knew what country their grandparents came from. We called it our "heritage". When our fourth grade teacher asked the class to give a report about where our grandparents, or parents, were born, and be able to...
Droste Effect Armageddon with Infinite Recursions
I. I’m a liar Been spinning yarns Since I was a snotnose Little lies Big ones too The kind that trip you up The kind that keep you From falling down &, especially, the kind that make for a good story Never let the truth Get in the way of a good story...
The Moon and Me & Fully Loaded
The Moon and Me On the back road that night I was indecent yet also incandescent the moon and me glowing cryptic with our separate shame A truck flew by then screeched I should have run but one heel was broken and it was black out but for the moon and those...
What?
WHAT? I registered my daugther to a ballet class, she is five years old. Her cousins are already part of this class since several years. I am going to follow my brothers’ idea . He lives in Ville mount Royal, and I live in cote des neiges, since the course is open...
Uncle Gene says I can tell you this story, now that you’re old enough to listen.
My name is Molly Jean, and I am eleven years old. I’m named after my Uncle Gene. His real name is Eugene. I sit next to him on holidays. Around the table are Mommy and Daddy, Mommy’s younger sister, Kayla, Uncle Gene’s older brother, Roy, my older sister, leann, and...