25 Apr 2014 Leave a comment
We had peach tree in the yard. I remember thinking about how small it was compared to other trees. My two year old Boxer, Sidd, circled around the tree. A whirlpool of force and breath. His harvesting ritual. He would grab one with his slobbering mouth as he ran around and around, eventually sinking into the grass to eat it. I watched him and laughed with delight. My dog loved to eat juicy, fuzzy peaches.
Then my mother would walk out back, see him on the ground, chewing away. “Sidd!” she yelled. “No!!” as she ripped the peach from his mouth. He looked up with his tail between his legs.
His sad eyes seemed so familiar.
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02 Apr 2014 Leave a comment
earthquake.
the sh
ground ak
es-
you spit butterflies,
I
swallow.
a rumble in my stomach
reverberates in
dirt,
b l o s s o m i n g flowers.
sunlight, sweetness,
fruit of my intestines.
t
r
ee of your lips
basking in wet dew.
foggy morning-
I see you.
n
I breathe your i b
ra ow
and burst
into bright light.
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