A Small Collection of Things in Reverse

She was on her knees by a depressive begonia.
“They’re not getting any air in here,” she said when she saw me. “It’s gotten to the point where I have to go around breathing on them, multiple times a day.”
I unloaded the box on the kitchen counter.

24 October 2018

  in a cabin above the irksome sea where the electric heater thaws us we make pancakes for lunch pasta for dinner we play at domesticity we watch a movie we disagree vehemently the night appoints us fools you tell me you love me let’s retire these ugly games and go to bed

24 October 2018
Flash Fiction Eight: Endings.

This story ends with a girl whose hair is too long for her liking. Seven new songs, unwashed swimmers, and a pair of luggage tags for the flight home tomorrow. She has a lump in her throat that’s been there for two months. Everything’s tasted bitter since September.

24 October 2018

winter’s drain
in sophie’s skin
hands soaked
in summers knowledge

24 October 2018
Two poems: Ionian cup 570-550 BCE and Life of Art

I sit reading for so long that my legs tingle
with guilt, and the arms of the chair
become my arms. For a moment
I feel the stiffness in your back.

24 October 2018

I’m not a light sleeper, but something woke me in the middle of the night. It wasn’t something particular—like a sound or smell—but rather, a presence.

24 October 2018
Mince Meat for Magpies

I scoop the complaining cat into my arms and cradle it like a baby. Oliver stands outside the kitchen door, throwing the mince meat balls out onto the lawn. One magpie appears, then two, three, swooping in on the easy breakfast. More magpies swoop from the sky until the lawn is dotted with them. Oliver throws the last ball and comes inside.

24 October 2018

The way it starts is the way it ends and I kiss you like the worst I’ve ever had is a paper cut. I dream of asking you out for coffee, watch the flowers grow in real time. You live above me so I stick stars on the ceiling. I’m hoping that they’ll help you sleep better.

24 October 2018

I found a tube
Half used and congealed in the cap.
I wore it overnight on the pimples I keep picking.

24 October 2018

I called her every Saturday morning, though, and played ‘Wuthering Heights’ by Kate Bush into the phone. I wouldn’t say anything, just play the song as soon as she answered and then hang up when it finished. I never did explain why and I think she hated it, but it became such a habit that she just answered every week without fail.

24 October 2018
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