Starting each day this way It’s hard not to fall Deeper into the hole So far we can’t tell Which way is up When that’s not even the question
We live in hives Cramped and stacked on top of one another Filling our nests with honey Building homes for our young
You complain about my hair, where it falls out, the places you find it. The drain has been the most common, but my defense is always strong.
A knock on the door startled Linda, though she had expected it. Three quick raps with what she assumed were knuckles. The cameras she had set up outside unveiled what she could not see from her position at her chair in her basement. The front and back porch, and both east and west sides of the house. She had bought four monitors total, which Linda felt was very official.
Returning to my hometown wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. I expected an overwhelming wave of nostalgia, or grief, or regret, or even longing. But all I could say when my partner drove past my old home, the place I had spent my entire adolescence was, “Wow. Big tree.”