I see her

She chops carrots at a wooden block she's owned longer than this house Her knuckles show the swell of arthritis but her hands still move quickly, practiced in this dance She checks the time on the microwave (It's the only clock in the kitchen with the right time, the others set forward to help her … Continue reading I see her


she sits on a stoop her ass and thighs feeling the numb of months of winter through her jeans through the cement through the vibration of the garbage truck down the street she coos, a hand outstretched to a cat with ugly scars and sad drippy eyes that have seen colder nights and hotter days … Continue reading