my tattoo.

my tattoo.

So. I have a tattoo. One year ago I climbed a steep set of stairs, sat down in a black chair, and held my leg incredibly still as a stranger marked me with permanent ink. It was the day after April Fool’s and the day before Good Friday, somewhere in...
The Unmaking

The Unmaking

i. This is where the walls gave way This is demolition day All the debris, and all this dust What is left of what once was Sorting through what goes and what should stay ii. This is the hard work of breaking and also of braking. This is the hard work of sifting and...
be gentle with yourself.

be gentle with yourself.

The mason jar sits on my shelf, slowly filling with scraps of paper. The yellow and white mug sits on my desk, slowly being emptied of those same scraps. Every Monday I reach into the cup and pull out one folded scrap and I can already feel the smile spreading as my...