Category: My Writing Challenges

  I have asked my husband, What do you think she will look like? He frowns, and I know there is no answer. Not right…

  The act is violent, the tearing open, the skin. I imagine bird claws, the talons, a wind breaking open between two buildings. The mouth,…

  And then I look to the fall trees, and I wonder if they ever think, “I am running out of leaves.” They probably do,…

  Crab is such an ugly word—the hard k, its suddenness. I’m steeped in these small pools, or perched on the surrounding rocks and sand,…

  I go out into the world, looking for strawberries like the ones from my mother’s garden. They were small and firm, sweet but bitter,…

  Yesterday, I spent the day sleeping away my life. It was peaceful, the blankets all clustered near the back porch door, and all the…

  I want to get back into drawing, the pencil in my hand, the thick charcoal under my nails. I keep collecting spare pieces of…