A yipping serenade of small dogs bursts/from my grandmother’s house when I open//the chain-link fence to the backyard, a version/of Eden that moved to the South and let itself//grow over.
Category Archives: with love
Communion
There is a picture of me at four years old helping my grandmother to plant summer/squash in her backyard garden; the two of us kneeling in freshly tilled dirt, my small/hands full of seeds that she would take one-by-one, cupping a small mound of earth/to cover each of them.
Home-Grown Serotonin
This year I did something I never thought I’d do: I went off my medication for my depression and anxiety…
quick-write: childhood home
Maybe when you approach it, it won’t look like much. Houses are far and few, but chicken houses abound—if it’s an unlucky day you will smell them. Hills bow up on every side like they’re cradling the land beneath, which is covered in lazily waving grasses and wildflowers. The only trees to speak of areContinue reading “quick-write: childhood home”
Over-Planting
This year was my first attempting a full-blown vegetable garden, and now that autumn has really hit I would say it was a modest success–by which I mean, I finally managed to keep a tomato plant alive for the full growing season. The hopes for the garden were, perhaps, a little too optimistic–I probably plantedContinue reading “Over-Planting”
Ancestry
**alternative version published in issue 3 of Stone Fruit Literary Magazine** I walk a thin and unkept road of rocks,of dirt & roots, of things forgotten—lost& found. Those afternoons spent unconcernedbeneath a patchwork quilt of leaves & sky& warm late light. My chants would float like smoke:she loves me not, she loves me. Now IContinue reading “Ancestry”
honey gaze 