Nobody wears flip-flops in the middle of December, but when Luca called at two in the morning, they were the only shoes I could find. I stood shivering in the street outside his house in my pajamas with a fleece thrown on top, my toes turning red.
By the End of a Rope
Erik received the news of Pappa’s death in the summer of 1979 while he was away teaching philosophy courses at a study abroad program in Paris.
“The Winters of the Sun”
Like a title that keys no theme
Except an atmosphere, I slip into my clothes.
A doorknob, a checklist, a podcast
On an unsolved murder.
“Crisp the Surface”
Shards of invention over
crisp dirt :: secreted
mouths whisper about
asexual
union and definitions :: small
The Storm
The storm swept up a week’s worth of clouds and binned them far to the east into the sea. Tanya stood in the doorway, surveying her yard. Cool mountain air entered her lungs—though she lived far from any mountain—and the sky was clear and blue.
“Takers”
Picking at the bones,
they feed from residual
ligaments left
post quiet carving
began with disinterest
proceeding to tsks tsks then
disregard