White and cold.
Everything was covered in cold white.
I cradle a faded accordion folder on my lap. It is full of letters I wrote in my teens, twin to one…
The lightning scar from 2008 slices through
(after A. A. Milne)
Pooh had eaten all the honey. Piglet worried a lot.Eeyore never saw the bright…
I slept like a baby
the night you passed away,
We should be mad. You went behind our backs, challenged us, and we should probably disown you, tell you to never come back to…
Mom tried to cure my flat feet by taping a bean under each tender insole. It was supposed to make me sensitive to the way things feel when I step on them. And it worked — about as well as the artificial poison she painted on my thumb to make me immune to all sorts of bitterness.