In the kitchen, my hands speak before the rest of my body does.
This is what I do- feed the mouth of loneliness
until it combusts into flames.
This is what I do- saute the tomatoes, dice the meat, slice the cantaloupe
before my skin is ready to turn itself inside out
and stitch itself to the…
**announcement:** i post far more frequently to my other blog - a more accurate, messy representation of my general being.
explore if you wish.
Once, we felt one another’s bodies the same way rain feels the ground.
This was the same year the neighbors caught a lone wheelchair
rolling down the pavement next to their driveway
in the middle of a windstorm so strong
it tore off all their house’s siding.
There was no one in that…