Tightening

The wet heat sneaks up on me and applies some tightening helmet to my head; every green and soon to be brown summer thing seems to wave now in some heartbeat rhythm, waiting for rain.

Cure

The trick, I tell myself, is finding one thing. One thing that stops the day and the thoughts and the holding of breath and all of the unnecessary motion. The thing I might remember. Then realizing that it's not just one thing, but everything.

Shake Off

The dryer tells me how long I've been out of bed, how much moisture and sleep have been evaporated. I realize right this minute how constantly, like a cow's tail, I shake off the quiet and the still.

Tell Them

Unfortunately, she spent the last ten years wondering which side had more of what she longed for the most. She changed her course on Friday. Tell them all I've missed them, too, Alice.