November, 2009
We Can Be Jack and Sally
Starting with the saw grass, the palmetto. Jack said We can be night-riders, and I, as a young child, had scarred the side of my hand just running it down the blades of the bush.
Something Calming, Something Necessary
Tapping rattled my bedroom window, where the wind dragged bare oak limbs across the panes, and from the safety of my sheets I thought of all the unknowns out in the sky, something dark and shifting, a slow procession overhead that might forever change me like it had so many others in our town. The tapping came again, a sound more like the pelting of hail though the sky was clear.
I Know Your Face
She showed up on my doorstep before noon in pigtails. A girl, a little too old for pigtails. Her arms were empty of anything she could wish to sell me and a faint touch of eyeliner had smeared underneath her eyelashes. Most definitely too old for pigtails but still terribly young.
