I sang in my makeshift gown. I danced.
Category: Grave
Holy remembrance and devotion to what has passed.
The Tinsel Year
There it stood— tall and proud— a completely tinseled tree, silver from top to bottom, hiding even the lights, even the ornaments behind curtains of dazzle.
Alligator Vigilance
No one could explain the genuine disappointment in our chests to not need to be alligator-vigilant.
The Sisters in Their High Castle
All was pristine white because their purity was kept like that— as much as the quiet, private world they shared.
In Grains
The warmth is lovely. The terror of investigation into my pre-teen crushes is not.
Before the Headlights
Ghosts must have called the police on us.
Among Graves
Things end. Life ends. And that feels peaceful and hopeful to me.
Spoon Rings
Haunted jewelry. It had an upswing in the ’60s and ’70s. I wonder how many of those rings we found were authentic— and came with ghosts.
Wing Walker
It’s no one’s fault— it traces back too far and wide to be blamed on any just one. It is fair to no one. All hail the brave.
Aquamarine Dream
You handed me a mineral, and I still carry it with me in the daylight of awake.
Jasmine on the Grave 