Silk Threads

i must remember the beautiful things:

the phoebe in the cacti, dancing arm to arm.

sun-bleached rabbit’s bones, evidence of coyotes.

flash flooded creeks and winter rain; the desert headed into spring.

raven, black, carrying red baubles.

lavender in the neighbor’s yard.

a lover who carefully transfers a bee from my car window to the safety of a nearby tree; the same love who will catch a daddy long legs in their palm to bring her outside.

the wet stamp of a dog nose upon my cheek.

text messages from my brother about comic books.

the fact that i’ve been nearly nine months free of domestic violence.

the blessing of a wedding between friends.

the soon-to-be-human growing in my sister’s belly, perhaps brought into the world of the living close to my own birthday.


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