A dark, slender branch elegantly dressed in snow reaches for the sun.
Early morning the dark sky holds a single pearl the luminous moon.
This is what it can be like when you live with a writer. I sent this text message to my husband a couple of days ago. I’m a shameless gusher, embarrassed, but shameless. Text Message to My Husband I love you. Stating it risks redundancy, but you who have loved me through all the rough,Continue reading “Living with a writer.”
Clinical hands The first hands to touch me were clinical hands, as you laid in twilight sleep, mother drugged against your wishes by a doctor who “knew better” than you did what was good for you and your newborn daughter. Clinical hands passed me to other clinical hands latex against my exposed and innocent skin.Continue reading “Clinical Hands”