The blue balloon chases the pigtailed girl down the lane. Oldest trope on the books but it happens. I myself have been hunted by glitter and butchered by confetti. In my eyes, coldness where light used to be. Distant mountains observe cooly, deciding who to collapse on and when. My name means party in a furry alien language of finery. But my hair, snaking behind me in the wind, is treasonous.
Day: May 2, 2026
My Eyes Opened and I Wept
Miracles bloom like roses along the avenue of my gracious life. My blessings I can scarcely count as they bounce down the sidewalk in competition to see who can get the farthest from me. Is death the final form of ingratitude? Or a tiredness so deep it’s heated by the Earth’s furious core? My eyes opened and I wept. Dawn hovered over me, making threats not promises.
My Grandmother Was a Fish
My grandmother was a fish. Behind the iron bars of Memphis, she died slowly as my grandfather drained her blood to paint roses for his filthy lover. To me she was a wall made by the best mason, impossible to crack. Underneath, a heart poured out into a human sieve. The tragedy was she never said no. The bondage of the Southern Baptist woman, silent and sticky with secrets. She could have been in a condo in Florida with her little dog. Instead she swam in a tank in Memphis, her ocean of options breaking on someone else’s beach, and she dissipated into the vastness that is a God who sees every sacrifice.
Suicide Attempt
The old blue slide will be missed. Girlhood runs to the river and ends in the cold, fishful waters. My best friends are penguins smoking weed in Bermuda. My best friends are narwhals holding a beach party in Marseille. My best friends are a collection of yellow pills with “Take in Case of Unbearable Pain” written on the label, and I do. My girlhood was a tender thing at the fringes of polite society, feral and always wondering where home was. Now I follow prescriptions, pain, my dayglo God.
Miniature Moon 