I do not miss you more on Valentine’s Day

I do not miss you more on Valentine’s Day. In the profusion of reds and intact hearts you are no more absent than you ever were. (I do not miss you in the language of calendars and clocks – in the birthdays and the Christmas mornings and the ten-nine-eights of New Years Eve) I missContinue reading “I do not miss you more on Valentine’s Day”

Home (a love letter) – revisited

Home. You think home is the view of water, and the three steps down, and those plans to be approved by council. It’s the fence of white little spears, and the manicured lawn that doesn’t stain your knees, and you’ll pass it all on one day, this version of home, the same way you inheritedContinue reading “Home (a love letter) – revisited”

Start with your hands

From December 2012: Start with your hands. I want you to place them here. And here. And here.  So much to discover if you take it slow, and I want you to take it slow. I want to feel the restraint (yours, not mine). I want to see the pulse in your tendon, the quick in your veins.Continue reading “Start with your hands”


Sometimes I remember differently. I was thinking it might be the same for you. Not the usual memories rolled across the fingertips and turned about. Not the ones worn down and through and out. Sometimes these. The heart-in-throat promise of opening doors. Arms, and falling against your neck. The sand-plane of your skin and distanceContinue reading “Differently”

In the hours between 10 and 12

In the hours between 10 and 12 when limbs grow heavy and fingers light when kisses are stained with last year’s wine and Venus can’t decide her name … In the hours between 10 and 12 when toes protest and cotton clings when lines are etched down threaded walls and I cannot remember my nameContinue reading “In the hours between 10 and 12”