If Dickinson was right and hope is, in fact, the thing with feathers

It goes like this. Wake up, fall into the abyss of timeline updates, scroll through the carnage I slept through. New day, new wrath. I grow more weary of the world every day I am forced to wake up in it. Tell me, where is the world we remember? I am weary of those whoContinue reading “If Dickinson was right and hope is, in fact, the thing with feathers”

I’D SAY THEIR NAMES BUT THERE ARE FAR TOO MANY NOW

I can’t breathe, that’s what he said with a knee against his neck. And thousands of others like him have sung that three-word chorus, all of their gasping voices still echoing, still ignored as we turn a deaf ear and stare numbly, turning the street corner to avoid taking the side of the dying man.Continue reading “I’D SAY THEIR NAMES BUT THERE ARE FAR TOO MANY NOW”

THE CITY I DIDN’T CHOOSE

Part Five Places are people. When I drive past the landmarks of my hometown all I see are ghosts of varied significance. Exhibit A: behind the air conditioning unit of our church where I had my first three kisses after stealthily sneaking away from the youth group bonfire held in the parish parking lot, myContinue reading “THE CITY I DIDN’T CHOOSE”

THE CITY I DIDN’T CHOOSE

Part Four When you share stars with someone on cloudless September nights you so easily fall for the illusion that, just like the lights suspended above your bodies, they too will never leave. Things feel so permanent there, two small frames immersed in late summer dew. Hair tangled in knots between heads, pinkies accidentally intertwined,Continue reading “THE CITY I DIDN’T CHOOSE”

THE CITY I DIDN’T CHOOSE

Part Three The stars know too much about me now. If they could laugh, I know they would, both at me and with me. They’d weep too, at everything I forced them to witness. Imagine me eighteen, short hair and denim cut-offs, collapsed in wet grass, barefoot and intoxicated by summer petrichor. Call it baptism,Continue reading “THE CITY I DIDN’T CHOOSE”

THE CITY I DIDN’T CHOOSE

Part Two The stars are real out there. In the countryside, I mean. My hometown suburb knows no such thing, though it falsely believes it knows everything. I lived eighteen full years blindly believing I knew real stars (or real anything) until the moment I first gazed upward, spine against wet soil, and was provenContinue reading “THE CITY I DIDN’T CHOOSE”

VISIONS OF A LIFE

That feeling— a nighttime walk in the crepuscular lightof late November, leaves crunching under rain bootsI wore by accident, having misunderstood the forecastwhile rushing to catch the late bus in the morning. There’s a certain kind of magic in that kind of being alone,wandering home at half past seven, taking the longer routejust to baskContinue reading “VISIONS OF A LIFE”