the sun pouring like honey through our bedroom window
drinking lukewarm coffee because I don’t want to get up and not hear you breathe just to nuke it hot
the red of the apple I had for lunch, the crunch of it when I bit in
the white of fresh stucco on the place across the street, the black windows staring back
you, cooking onions and garlic and tomatoes and speaking poetry to me
drinking wine, the reddest and fullest we’d ever had, or maybe that’s just what I remember
the moon and how it might be the largest airport one day
you in the doorway of our bedroom
nothing
everything
you.
2 Replies to “What I Remember”
You certainly have the heart of a poet, none more so than in this little postcard!
Wow, but she did lover her this man!!
Thank you, Michelle! My creative writing teacher would smile and nod if she saw your comment. She was always trying to get me to write poetry and I’d tell her I’m a fiction writer, I don’t know what to do with poetry!
Word of the Year-2025
For my 2025 word of the year, I chose COURAGE. I know, it’s not the most original pick—but hear me out. Something about courage stuck with me this time, especially after watching a documentary on The Tragically Hip. For those unfamiliar, they’re kind of a Canadian thing. A band that
Hinterland is Real
They say seeing is believing. I didn’t know what that meant until that night. I was coming home late, later than I should, and I knew I was going to catch heck. Momma didn’t even pretend to be patient when me or my sister wasn’t home in time for dinner.
Deadly Mist
The mist crept closer, slithering across the boot prints she left behind on the soft, moist ground. She urged her legs to go faster over the uneven path. A leafless tree grabbed at the flying strands of her long silver hair as she ran past. They hung like shiny tinsel