Thinks in poetry, lives in prose
Dreams in colors she cannot understand
The music of her words is lost
In the starts and stops of
Will they hear the song they asked for?
The rhythm of her movements
The drive from Wellington, Florida to Chicago takes nineteen hours for a family of average luck. Two days between the promise of a new adventure and the realization that I was seeing my house for the last time.
I look back at all of this as a twisted blessing. Each incident added another brick to my wall. I
My family has a thing for knives. It all started when my Aunt chased her sister down the street with a butcher’s knife, a natural reaction to newspaper theft. Her third grade teacher sent her home with a newspaper with