I was carrying a silver platter of pulled pork the day Mary Oliver died. I dropped my car keys in the snow and balanced the meat as I bent toward the tufted powder. Meat for the writers on Phillips Street. Eight pounds the young man … Continue reading Eating the Forest
6:00 a.m. Wake to simultaneous smartphone alarms – one twinkle, one stardust. This is marriage. Coffee and egg. Wheat Montana toast. High Country News and big wonders. What will Missoula Valley look like in 100 years? Why did Connie disappear? Did ____ find a … Continue reading Friday Field Report from the Wilderness Institute November 9, 2018
Let me feel the faith of hermit crabs waiting for the tide’s return. Let me be renewed by a fisherman walking to the surf near sunrise. Each day. Each morning. To the voice chirping, “You are not enough,” I sing in kind, … Continue reading Perdido Key, July 2018
For the mornings you sat outside and watched the sunrise For infusing my childhood with the scents of the ancient: Communion wine, candle wax, polish, and myrrh For taking me to the pool in the evenings … Continue reading For all the things
I never thought I would write this letter, but, of course, you saw this coming. Six months apart frays the rituals of a marriage. I tried at first. I was faithful in the beginning. I was Mountain; you were Central. And then, one night, when … Continue reading To my love,
What a joy it is to find a permanent home for my essay about the intertwining thresholds of place, identity, and marriage. Thank you, Arkansas Review!
As you walked toward your mother’s rose gold coffin, the Arizona air made me want to wrap you in a delta blanket and feed you homegrown tomatoes. Blow kisses on your belly like your father. Rest your head in my lap during those humid tent … Continue reading After the Vigil