by McKenzie | Jul 23, 2013 | Blog, My Poems
When I was young, I gazed at a tree and knew if I didn’t start climbing, I’d never get another chance. My smaller body was in a red and black dress, white tights that snagged on the branches. By the time the adults took notice, my feet were above their heads,...
by McKenzie | Jul 9, 2013 | Blog, My Poems
is a candlestick, snapped at the base after being dropped from a bag of date-night accessories. We had a terrible anniversary. Two weeks later, we met in the bedroom, and our bodies were sad—sad fingers slipped through sad hair, sad lips touched sad...
by McKenzie | Jul 7, 2013 | Blog, My Poems
The low, chuffing calls of deer in the bog are like a man grinding his teeth, steadily into the face of a megaphone. The call of birds. A conversation, the garble. The suction and pop of a leg pulling up from the bog’s thick mouth. Upon close examination,...
by McKenzie | Jul 7, 2013 | Blog, My Poems
One afternoon I mistook a young swan, dipping his head, for a large turtle rolling over and over—water, sun, water, sun—and the sadness returned. My stomach, seeming at a distance, filled. I wonder now if this is how a mother feels when she loses a...
by McKenzie | Jul 7, 2013 | Blog, My Poems
At the restaurant, the ceiling tiles were white and sagging, weak-in-the-knees, Casablanca lilies. This was a place that should have taken him back to his childhood. A place for burial, a cremation. They arrived with a variety of meats, d’oeuvres, all the way...
