Sonnet for a Lesion on the Fusiform Gyrus I have lost her letters—the ones where she called me jellyfish and praised my soft hands. They are rotting somewhere in my old house: the ink bleeding into the folds of wide-ruled paper. I try to think of her face when my skin stings—burning from the inside. […]Read more "Sonnet for a Lesion on the Fusiform Gyrus"
If we sit to work or pray, the back curves in all the wrong places. Take inventory: straighten the spine; tuck the hips forward. Assumption: Lactic acid builds and pools in stillness. Solution: Always move. Bend. Do not sleep. Soldier says, Remember Maslow’s Hierarchy. I say I do not have the strength to rest or […]Read more "Theodicy in Pure Barre"
You are never supposed to know how tired I am. You are never supposed to know how much sleep I’ve lost over what I did and did not say the right way. Now, the rhythm of academia has been disrupted. And at least one of you will wear a shit-eating grin and feel like a […]Read more "Lecture in Progress | Post-Election"
Moses chanted a song for the men; he would chant for them and they would answer him. And Miriam chanted a song for the women. —Rashi We take our clothes off differently depending on who is watching. Myriam says, Take everything off below the waist. She stands in the corner— maroon scrubs, black bun piled […]Read more "Brazilian Wax with Myriam"
Penelope is not called a Military Wife. But she is a military wife—living the story, living the war, learned and retold. This time, she is scoffing at the ‘90s Army Wife Etiquette book still sold at the PX; she flips through it and feels guilty. She isn’t sure why. This time, no one assumes […]Read more "Penelope is not called a Military Wife"
I am running alone in a park near my apartment. A cop pulls up, sits in his car, windows tinted. The air is violent in my lungs. He watches me run three laps before he calls me over—asks if I mind if he closes the park gate. Asks if I’m military, pointing at my tattoos, […]Read more "Intersections"
I am not watching the news We are the news the ones that break and help break laws A colleague warned me before the protest they’re taking names if you want to go quietly instead and I see job loss run rumored and rampant but I am young […]Read more "Song In Spite of HB2"
[photo “Nikki” by Susan kae Grant] When I was younger, all I wanted was to be pretty. * Mother looks at me, concerned: Are you sick? No, I say. I just don’t have makeup on. All day she is suspicious. * At the Women in Business conference in the tiny rural town […]Read more "Pretty"
Grasp for birthday candles in the junk drawer. Dig fingernails into white wax while tonguing through architecture on the side table tasting for the copper menorah that stays out all year. What to do in the dark without power: remember all the postcards unsent. Keep trying all the light switches— desperate muscle memory. Lust for […]Read more "For Jonas"
Buy two basil plants—let one live. Strip the other naked with your teeth. Cherish your lemon zester. Look for bodies that know this pleasure. Take note of the cellulite in your thighs; consider your normal BMI. There are places you will see that were never on your bucket list, like the inside of your bones […]Read more "Song for a 25th Birthday"