my hands evolve closerto my mother’s with agethough they’ve knownfar different worldsyou’d think the physicswouldn’t apply her hands: battle riddenat 30, painting the condoshe saved every penny to owntiling the floors until her back achedpaint splattered beneath her nailsas she flicked cards acrossthe green felt at commerce casinograveyard shift. texas hold’emto come home and hold … Continue reading my mothers hands →

Wellesley laughter spills into the muggy late-summer night. A sustainability-bin fan buzzing while August crickets chirp. We never identified when they sing their last song. It was ever so loud, then pure silence by snowfall. It’s 2017. Cazenove Hall. Top floor. The turret rooms. Our blocking group hit the housing lottery. This enclave becomes our … Continue reading in honor of Wellesley’s 150-year anniversary… a ~150-word meditation →