Left, right, fingers and toes,
climbing up through kitchen drawer
handles— just the daily grind
when you’re only four—
helping bake by eating the quarter
cup of flour given to you, helping
yourself to the dish of butter,
sticky-fingered, when they turn their
Tag: chronic illness
On Patience, Pt. 2
I want to survive so bad
that I could take a pill that takes
away desire to live if it
would give me the strength to get by.
And perhaps I shall.
But I only know of one of those,Read More »
On Patience, Pt. 1
I remember drowning
in waves,
how God knelt upon the sea
and placed a gift behind me,
and my anxiety,
of what was inside and whether
it could keep me alive,
but I did not want
to squeeze the package.Read More »
Options
If not left dead, left strengthened,
but for the first time, I’m starting to think
this may not be the kind of story
where I make it out alive.Read More »
Alphabet Ravine 