marriage
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The Thing
There is something between us that is ours. In the morning it is a piece of ice, sticking to itself. It melts inside our bodies during the day and softens utterly as we greet one another as evening fills each room of our house with her violet breath. And when everything is done, and the… Continue reading
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Two Chairs
It was the sort of day in early June that might’ve been late September. There was a man sitting out on his front lawn, on a folding chair, experiencing that curious sensation brought on only by certain weather where we feel ourselves not remembering, but being visited by memory, so captivating is it’s scent and… Continue reading
About Me
A poet living in Ontario. Mostly works of memoir and poetry that focus on motherhood, womanhood, and relationship to self.