She Became the Silence

Before the rising, there was excruciating silence. A million deaths beneath the skin—unnamed, insistent. Felt keenly, ignored. Then came the cracking—full, unrelenting—no gentle undoing. Only the collapse of all self-abandonment once held together. She watched, relegated to the back seat as mind and soul retreated from the noise. Choosing solitude Read more

The Women in the Kitchen on Thanksgiving Day

The women in the kitchen create Thanksgiving While the men sit on the couch and watch the game, Smoke cigars off the back porch, And hold the football between their hands On the lawn they swear they’ll mow tomorrow. The women in the kitchen covering the counter In white lily, Read more