It starts just before dusk: golden hour spritzed with Callery pear trees.


A red, decoratively patterned rug folded on top of red carpetting

On Becoming Memory

Remember, swollen lungs can drown. / I remember her drowning. / I am drowning myself as I write this.

Red traffic light against a dim blue sky with reddish clouds.

Driving Test

Decamp into ramps of small intestine twists, she says. But driving alone, you’ve always avoided highways—for the fear of breeze shaving crazily at your vehicle’s chemo head, other drivers bullying your sluggishness or the spotlessness of speed guns with km bullets aiming at your windscreen's chest.

Lines of blue windows on a brick building

Fourteen Ways of Looking

At fourteen I imagined that in the face of great tragedy, I would be brave, heroic even.

White ceramic cat on top of broken green glass and white ceramic

A Broken Alphabet

So what if / thoughts are things and / things are ten digit passcodes

White specks and splotches showing gas flaring on a black background, with city names in white.

By The Numbers

On the coldest nights, you could hear these other lives. Broken housing contracts and paystubs-that-never-were fluttering their wings in the wind.