grief
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Walking In April
Crocus and snowdrops are the suckling pigs this spring, coming up fat and hot in the April sun. I watch as a squirrel carries in his mouth the lifeless body of a bird, deflated like a month-old balloon. He didn’t make the kill, that’s obvious—it’s just some poor old sparrow that died his own way… Continue reading
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Singing Infants and The Last Song
I’ve been thinking lately of a connected sequence of things, the first being, that Naima, now two months old, has begun to sing. She shows a strong preference for the following songs: Wild Is The Wind by Nina Simone (but sung by me)The Littlest Birds by The Be Good Tanyas (but sung by me)The Wind… Continue reading
children, dailyprompt, family, grief, journal, life, love, memoir, mother, motherhood, music, relationships, singing, womanhood -
Growing Old
Gardenia Are the whitest white you’ve ever seen, Except for the hairs escaping my brain To surface slowly on my head Like the last ever flowers Of a dying earth. Continue reading
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Saturday Night Prayer Meetings: Part One
For any of this to make sense I would have to start by saying that us four kids were raised entirely without religion and an absence of spiritual thought altogether. The closest my mother came to speaking on spiritual matters was claiming she saw ghosts in each new home we inhabited (we moved around a… Continue reading
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Third Trimester Exhaustion Setting In.
I begin to set expectations of coconut water that are just unreasonable. I check the nutritional information before every glug, meditating on the word “electrolytes” like one might mediate on Om Mani Padme Hum. In the name of potassium and magnesium, bless it to my body I pray. Glug. I begin to feel my heart… Continue reading
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My Mom Died Last Week
My mom died last week and this week we winterized our back yard. Took all the pots and bird houses and various feeders, shook them empty, stored them under the work bench with a blue tarp tucked tightly around the whole thing. Racoons got into our compost again and there were clementine peels strewn all… Continue reading
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My Mulberry Tree Is Sick
It doesn’t grow berries. At first I thought the squirrels were getting to them before I could spot them, but then I noticed the squirrels aren’t there, except in transit. There’s a younger, healthier mulberry toward the back of the property and they make a circus of that one, tally-ho from limb to limb, all… Continue reading
About Me
A poet living in Ontario. Mostly works of memoir and poetry that focus on motherhood, womanhood, and relationship to self.
The Offline Mind 