An Open Letter to the Bigs
Dear Big Ones, You know how it is. Exiled to our various parsecs, homes transitioned from living quarters to satellites. The pings flash at all hours of the night, messages from so far away…
Author: stephanie
Hillbilly Hate
June was for fleeing north. In a move to distance from the heat, sickness, and constriction in New Orleans, I headed for the crickets. My parents’ farm is nestled in the countryside just outside…
Yellow Light
I watch through the doorway, her taking hours to smooth out fistfuls of shiny, synthetic hair. Her own hair, thin and still holding the butteriness of babyhood, doesn’t want any brushing. She herself goes…
Dispatches from the block
In a circumscribed space, no circumscribed hearts.
Feast without count
There was an opportunity to get strawberries. I realized this at 8:30, after I had already committed to exercising. The backyard was still syrupy with morning fragrance. All the smells that beg one to…
In the fog
Fog hovered over the city this morning, giants’ breath condensing and making us small. I grabbed my camera and the wide glass, thinking that only an eye open all the way could take it…
December is a cave
Go hide. Take what you can – sunlight, cookies, a lover’s promise slowly decomposing on the counter. Shove the handfuls into your pocket. Go ahead and let the days get small. But you, Darling,…
Small Things
I’ve really been into seeing things up close, appreciating the tiny worlds.