WINTER 2016 ISSUE
Hijacked by my mania, I leave the cerebral at the door and call forth what my body is telling me. I play with my bracelet and imagine seashells boats dolphins, talismans that ward off the big hairy...
First night in the hospital.
A loaded playlist
on my son’s iPod.
A gift of my favorite songs.
It creates a hive of music and medicine
in five-minute cells where I huzz
through hours, remembering.
In the middle of the chemo cycle
there comes a delay in snapping back—
they said it was normal
There was a definite wearing down,
a wading in deeper water:
fear of not getting out
At age four, I told my parents
when my foot fell asleep,
"I have stars in my shoes."
Today, the doctor asks me
a question, his words jumbling
like stars in my brain.
tell me again how this works. what tools you might use to get deep inside the corm. tell me again how your unshaken hands know what to pinch off and what to preserve. can i ask you questions as the...
that grants permission to serve lunch at the home I peer into the future of meager salads,
faded watermelons with pale seeds,
thick vanilla pudding for gluing broken things, Spanish rice hints of f...
When he retired, the faithful
streamed after him with pies—
mindful ladies who would gasp
in horror to be ungrateful lepers
caught not returning. So they
remembered him, especially on
I hear girls are born with all the hearts they’ll ever
have sewn inside their arms and legs. Candy hearts,
the quaint powdery kind that leave those little trails
of slug-soot on...
Jackson’s chaplain, B. Tucker Lacy, had a brother who owned
a house near the hospital and took Stonewall’s severed limb
to his brother’s family cemetery. –National Park Service
At the doctor’s office he only nodded,
picked up his coat, and left. One month
later, they found his truck on the reservation.
His relatives searched for awhile, then went
out to his gar...
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