Two half brain lobe split fractured separated + the strawberry jam tastes like it did ______ summers ago- I know technically we don’t know each other yet but it still tastes like the back of your neck might.  You are a massive and snarling and beautiful beast. Or maybe I am- will be. Might be sometimes. Anyway, it’s too hot for anything but toast and diluted pink lemonade, and I can’t hear anything you’re saying from across the room like that- it’s like being inside a dream, trying to warn or plead or something but your feet won’t move and your throat is swelling shut. Are you at all familiar with that feeling?

Nature’s Gazette:

that relative with too many plants
and music your parents don’t listen to
who is rarely at the family gatherings
but always sends you love on your birthday

that relative that they call “different” or “troubled”
with a multi-colored flag and a weird, earthy smell at their house
who seems to speak in fortune cookie, declaring
it takes courage to be yourself and 
you can always come to me when you’re scared

that relative with eclectic hobbies
like collaging and beadwork and making jambalaya 
who has pets that live indoors but
caretakes the creatures who live in the trees

i find that i am accidentally that estranged, weird aunt
because i was also that observant, curious, isolated kid
who needed a relative like me, a model to show
that you can be who you are someday and still survive it

let’s roll over and
under the covers again

first one to cocoon themselves fully
will be crowned victorious

fighting dirty is a must
i’ll race you

loser gives the winner a kiss

Yesterday I woke up early

A pit in my stomach

Nausea simmers under my throat

Tears brimming in my eyes

I feel so sick

I feel so dumb

I feel so tricked

I don’t know why I didn’t see it sooner

You’re a bad person

To hold so tightly to a grudge it merges with your stomach

Pettiness in every swish of your hand

Brought to your lips

To spew such vile words

It’s cowardly

It’s ridiculous

To rely on hatred

As a crutch to your brokenness

The long trail of remnants in your wake

Should’ve signaled to me

That you’re nothing more than a bully

Eating your prey whole

And yet the kill is still so bloody

Why
do
I need
math?  You ask.
Counting out might save
your life by numbering heart beats.

DX: L4-5 fusion
TX: Work hardening for RTW, strengthening, job simulation,body mechanics
       work simplification  4-6 weeks

Dottie, my very first patient of many
hurt her back at work
needs to return to the factory
to keep her family afloat
in her small town with few jobs.

Family comes first she confides
walking the path round the pond
steeling her pain during our first
two hours building her back.

I took her home with me causing
sleepless nights of worry.
Could I help her? Will she improve?
Gradually she taught me to leave it
at the door. No use fretting.

Six weeks later she made it…
hugging me, gifting me a
small white dog like my own.
He still sits on my windowsill
a Dottie badge of honor.

Fresh off the ferry, we move inland from the dreamy
blue haze of the ocean, looking for the wild

horses who stand in valleys of cordgrass, pocketed
away from the relentless scour of windblown sand.

Some are bone-thin with the gaunt hips of cattle.
Others’ bellies hang expectantly, taught and round

beneath shining coats. Every mane is thick and coarse,
tangled by the salt air. From the top of a dune, we spy

one small band – just a mare and her foal flanked
by a striking young stud. We stop to watch from a distance,

but the stallion pauses his grazing, looks up, and begins
to approach. For an instant we scramble

backward, thinking we’ve come too close
to the baby, but he bobs his head, walks with the loose

swing of relaxation, eyes bright and curious, ears pricked
forward like a friendly dog. Then he stops and stares

at the sea as if to pose, offering a partial profile, so I snap
his photo – a perfect gentleman, his flaxen hair flying feral.

What are you looking for
there in the bright light?

What are you sliding your fingers
toward?

Zoom in,
and the room fades to gray.

Squint a little longer, and the world
shrinks to a rectangle,

every beauty, every horror
tucked in a flattened box.

The earth
used to be round.

You used to love
its curves,

used to spin in circles
just for the taste

of falling.