Midnight Waltz

~ If a violin string could ache, I would be that string. Nabokov Mother whirls as we dance in our pink- flowered jammies waltzing to a ¾ beat across the living room. The violinist wears a white dress, her black hair wild with moonlight that willows her long arms—her eyes speak of edges with no […]

Bitterroot*

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A small perennial herb that is able to regenerate from          seemingly dead roots.    I planted us like periwinkle,  intending many seasons    of bloom, faith in eternity  in return. O friendship O wild    woman, how you left me a brittle  bog, burning. What was […]