Adriana.K.Maxwell
Under the house in Can-eo, Ate Bella sits at her loom. Shuttles clack as the threads are pushed into place.
The seed sleeps in soil as the wind howls above it, as the snow falls and melts, as the rain comes and the geese return home, as the children jump in puddles.
Lift me up on your shoulders. I'll duck under the branches and point out the shiny rocks. I'll feel tall enough to climb mountains while we wander in Michigan woods.
Now, I'm in the valley under the cold shadow of the mountains, I can't see the tops anymore through the mist and I miss the sky.
Wool, pull the wool over their eyes, let them become tired and cozy, close their eyes to whatever else you might be doing, because sometimes being out of their comfort zone is better than being out of sight.
Crunch, leaves underfoot, frost-lined grass, and the scrape, scrape of my windshield, my breath like a dragon's cloud rising, fingers in pockets, scrunched up body, trying to stay warm
I'm lying in bed trying to gather energy to face the day, lying in the sun, trying to soak it in, absorbing it from the grass, trying to keep going, keep it focused.
The shopping cart with the squeaky wheel rests now in a corral of its own kind, watching the sunset over the Walmart parking lot, munching on forgotten receipts.
The pot boils over on the stove, sticky rice foam frothing over the sides and hissing into the fire. Hands fumble putting on mitts.
The spiraled horn is laid before the king's feet. Unicorn to be crushed into powder to save his daughter because innocent souls don't deserve to go just yet, don't deserve to be still in silk, covered up by his bloodstained hands.
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