The Hunt by Michael Harris Picture of you Exactly one hundred years Dressed in wedding white And that same night Began the crooked journey Which thirty-nine years later Led to me I decided to dedicate the day Going far out of my way Heading up the mountain Where once my maternal blood lies Unmarked With no headstone to mark your lives Your loves Your sweat Determined I was Yet To…
poetry
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// my thoughts on Mother’s Day morning; 05.09.21 🌸
Read moreIn spring, the blossoming trees bloom with so much beautiful ferocity that sometimes I think they might alight in fire & just begin to float away toward heaven. Because it has to be magic. It has to be something not of this earth. I hold…
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Five on Friday // My Favorite Poets
Read moreNew series, five things, on Fridays. Here’s a story. Back when I was in college, I had this professor. He was a wild-haired writer, a child of another era. He wore tweed blazers and drove a little sports car. He was the first person to…
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a kitchen scene // late summer thoughts
Read morein the evening, the crickets are singing again. august makes violins of their tiny legs. we throw open the windows at night to hear the symphony. there’s a sweetness on the air– a coolness too, that when inhaled, fills the body with all the promise…
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celebrate //
Read moreThis month’s prompt word is celebrate. Aside from the fact that I’ve been physically unable to spend time on my computer, it’s been difficult to even brainstorm for this prompt. I’ve been suffering and when you’re suffering, it’s hard to think about celebrating. Still, this…
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Still I Rise
Read moreJust like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I’ll rise. Did you want to see me broken? Bowed head and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling down like teardrops. Weakened by my soulful cries. You may shoot me…
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Poetry Friday: For Women Who Are Difficult to Love
Read morePoetry Friday is a feature that I run once in awhile. A long time ago — before I was a mother, before I was a wife — I was a poet. Poetry was the thing that got me through many of my darkest hours. Once…
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Poem: “Untitled” | Rachel McKibbens
Read more“Untitled” by Rachel McKibbens To my daughters, I need to say: Go with the one who loves you biblically. The one whose love lifts its head to you despite its broken neck. Whose body bursts sixteen arms electric to carry you, gentle, the way old…
