The comforter is half-folded over with the upsweep of a snow bank against a house, if you’ll picture my wife’s edge of the bed as the house. Certainly, I am comparing a floor-plan perspective with an elevation, as it were, but you may ignore the rest of this paragraph: it may be worth your time instead to see the comforter just so. She made the bed before she left, and I have not disturbed her side of it except to take her pillow. She comes back Monday. The sheets are pink, and the top one entwines with a thin, cotton blanket, the sheet’s yin swirling with the blanket’s yang. Miles above them, the comforter’s displeasure is a perfect crescent.
Each year my high priestess, not without blood, phones to recite the story of my birth. We danced by the Chamberlin against a night of few stars, she says, colonnade women and poplin men in brick-soled bucks on bluegrass. Heat lightning tugged at tankers in a dark offing. We were at a point; you’ve seen the […]
Outside it’s cold, and a man sleeps against the garage. I’ve dropped Bethany off at the theater, and I’m disoriented. He could be dead. Then a guy comes from the night as if he were the night coalescing. He has a badge on a lanyard, just like the college kids that come to my door summertime in the suburbs. Except he’s around fifty, around my age, or he says he is, but I don’t believe him at first. He says he remembers the riots here after they shot King. He was five years old then. His dark dreadlocks fall behind him down somewhere near the dark street. They pull at the wrinkles on his forehead and make his eyes big and sweet.
We inherited my grandmother’s chaise lounge. Mimi died at 91 with enough possessions to fill a two-bedroom apartment and its patio, where this chaise held forth with about four other wrought-iron pieces. Mimi was a raconteur, and almost everybody in town knew her back when the town was that small, before I was born. My […]
in which Bethany chooses a college. In early April, after the college acceptance packages had come in, Victoria asked Bethany, “Which way are you leaning?” Bethany wasn’t completely sure yet – she wanted to visit the schools again – but she was pretty sure she wanted to go to the art college. The liberal arts […]