Slow down. Put away the cream and sugar. Savor this drink by itself. So I begin my sensory coffee-brewing class.
There’s no such thing as bushfire season anymore. It’s all year round, and even now in winter there is a total fire ban in place.
You can’t control what people make of you. / Some see sacrifice / where others see torture
Some mornings, I come to on the floor, / my neck burned with moon tracks
One day, I drove the hundred miles east to visit T at Ironwood and was denied visitation. The clerk told me there was no record of my request. Never mind that I had been visiting my son there every Saturday for five years.
Like an ermine looping through the snow, mouth a pink line, / I’m suited for my habitat.
Reconciling What a Son Remembers
Here’s a lesson: If you leave a hole in the forest, / leave a mouth open in pain, astonishment or grief, / something will come to fill it
No light could work its way into Kelsey’s condo after four, so that’s when she held the baby and checked email. She never received much.
Admit it. This is how you want me, slick where desired, / rough where requested.
