i was grumpy in my red-checkered shirt

he holds me, tells me he’s sorry and he smells of chalk and speed stick. and i think, ‘he shouldn’t be sorry. he did nothing wrong.’ i’d pulled potatoes from ground and carrots from stem and aiden and i, we’d made footprints in the...

on writer’s retreats and why i want to go

i am one year in this dutch town and the sunflowers are seeding, all orange and yellow like pumpkin loaf and the geese are calling, a haunted sound and i flap my arms and pretend to fly. i cut the stems of these flowering suns and i bring them inside, i bring autumn...

finding God in a coffee-shop

we ponder these things like mary did, in a coffeeshop stacked high with spines the color of crayons and we drink decaf and she talks of prayer. of the way it happens when night folds with gown against baby’s cheek. of the way “God holds me as i hold my...