Journal: “Alder”

My name pouring out of your mouth is berries on the vine and barnwood in the sun; three syllables ricocheting like bird shot in my rib cage and leaving me aching for the taste of your smoking temper. Charred apple and alder and maple love-letters from your bottom lip to mine, gentle as creek waterContinue reading “Journal: “Alder””

Journal: “Sunlight on a Stranger’s Skin”

“I want to be sunlight on a stranger’s skin, the same way my mother’s voice gently coaxes them awake during a parking lot conversation. She is a brass compass in a dark wood and the familiar grain of a kitchen floor under a messy breakfast table. Her heartbeats are the grandfather clock you hear downContinue reading “Journal: “Sunlight on a Stranger’s Skin””