37 degrees

37 degrees is the temperature a normal body holds. She woke up cold beside him and already knew. He stared up blinkless--dust already forming on his pupils. She filled him again and again, punching in time to the tinny disconnect of the speakerphone counting with her: one and two and three and four and five.   She pauses, ear to mouth … Continue reading 37 degrees

Phototaxis

  Side by side, we enter separate time zones. You Australia, me—Japan. We are in the same room but still separated by a cloud of pixels—billions of free-floating information particles we cycle in and out between us like air. We are like twin pupae forming in the blue incandescence. We’ve grown, attached to the same … Continue reading Phototaxis

Of Wings and Worms

  They've formed a circle again... a flock of designer sweat suits, leaving me to stare down the soft gullet of their hoods. They stand like exotic birds shifting stick legs, chirping in a language I can't decipher of the glorious plumage of mates and the height of houses as we wait for children, still … Continue reading Of Wings and Worms

The Wailing Wall

    All that remains is the marble of your back as you lie on your side asleep like a fallen column on bed sheets stretching out between us like   forty    years   of    Sinai    sand. I read the ridge of your spine skimming the braille of vertebrae for something buried deep as memory You shift … Continue reading The Wailing Wall

The Consumer and the Consumed

In a windowless room, our shirts pushed up over the elbows, in order to touch the bottom without getting wet.   Feeling in the muck, through the foreign food bodies, for the soft stick of forks and the smooth underbelly of spoons.   The mist from the sprayer slicks every surface to a dangerous sheen. … Continue reading The Consumer and the Consumed

The Matryoshka Women: A Mother’s Day Story.

My mother went to the tent cities of Albania in 1999 with a medical team to serve the Kosovo refugees. When she came back, she gave me a set of Russian nesting dolls or Matryoshka— meaning little mothers. Each doll opened up to reveal another smaller one inside her.  As the dolls become smaller, their features become less and … Continue reading The Matryoshka Women: A Mother’s Day Story.