Fragmentary

“It’s in this moment that her own unwinding is set in motion: inner belts slacken, gears list out of mesh, a membrane of wordless fury slips between the cogs as she feels a primal ligature wrenched up from some deep hollow, like the cracked glyphs of an abandoned alphabet or cached seeds. Staring up at the zero-sum of him, she feels one of those seeds plant itself in the humus of her grief, unaware of how quickly that seed will sprout a fixation on the fugues of what it is to be made, unmade, and then made all over again, though never quite the same.”

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Painting on a Motel Wall

The sailboat isn’t really moving. That’s the nature of paintings — they seem to be caught in some other plane of time. This highway, outside our motel room, was an infinite line and we a point equidistant from both ends. Trucks roared past in the night. The desert life was silent, as silent as the infinite stars that scar the face of the sky.

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Fluency

They called me
a test of his faith. I grew my skin
thick as observation glass,
tried to tempter the taps of cross examination.
I didn’t know how to explain
what a twelve-year-old body doesn’t know.

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