Someone to Feed You

“I hadn’t yet asked Mom if I could stay. Stalling, I pressed my thumbnail to palm in rows of crescent moons, the sun fading to a shimmering yolk behind the trees.”

What Things We Find in the Forest

“At first there was only moss on my toes, easily flicked away with a fingernail, leaving nothing but granules of earth between the creases of my skin.”

The Earth Inside Us

There she was, Carly Nelson, over by the pool kissing my father. 

Scattered Ghosts - Pushcart nom!

I step through the dark bedroom taking care to move slow and silent. Two mounds lay beneath the bed sheets. My humans are asleep.

Family Portrait

The sea whispers. Listen. Rest. Stay awhile.

Swirls and Eddies

The way it hung there, weighing down the giant hyssop stem, periwinkle flowers curled over, finger-like, reaching to cradle the poor bird, I knew the goldfinch had died by unnatural means. 

Bay-Bee

The sneaker is battered and full of holes. The sole separated, laces torn. Some would say it’s trash. 

But not you. 

“You spark joy,” you say, squeezing the shoe to your chest with your green, fuzzy paws. 

Wild and Unclean

At first it feels like an itch in your ear, a nag, a worm that’s crawled its way inside to mumble dark secrets. The unwanted urge to steer the car into oncoming traffic. Slithering deeper. Whisper, whistle, wriggle. ....

The Time You Thought You Were Allergic To Tylenol After Your Father Died

They come from above. Vibrations upon the earth urge us to emerge from where we live between web and root, waiting to feed, to bear fruit. ...

The Soil in Which We Live

The sound you make when you fall from the sky is static on the radio. It’s an eternal wave that never crashes. The grief of gravity forcing you down. ...

The Sound You Make When You Fall From the Sky

Mama always called me a lost little bird. Said my first month of life I held my mouth agape in colic, chirping for more but never getting enough. 

Abigail Kemske

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