The War was over, they said. You said, don’t slam the door. Don’t wake me if I’m dreaming. Don’t raise your voice. Night after night I matched my breathing to your measured steps. Maybe this time you’d come back to bed. The War is not over.


Untie these knots; unbind these silken cords, and let my heart beat freely. Let the blood return to sleeping limbs. Remind my skin— re-teach me how to feel. Just let me breathe, and I will take you in, your breath and mine entangled—intermingled—each exhale a testament to what we have enjoyed: my name upon your … Continue reading Reweaving


When we were small you pushed my Radio Flyer down the hill. It landed in the brook, dented and wheels up. I dragged that broken thing around until it fell apart. Should have guessed then what you would do to my heart.


For nine days I have counted the bells – Midnight, Matins, Sext and Vespers - snatching sleep in the stillness between the peals. I placed my faith in their music to call you home to me. Every six hours another bell, another unanswered prayer.