When We Were Small

Once a neighbor teen strung me up, noosed rope from a tire swing around my shoulder and tightened, me a small fry girl a human tire swing. When you hang, by armpit or neck, the rope burns, skin wilts.

“To Pieces”

When the man who is large takes your hand you must go, your mother at your back like a shovel. Scuffing your shoes, you gain balance and enter The Mouth, as you consider it…

“Hey Grandmam”

He had a chance to open the cellar when his grandmam wasn’t watching. Rake, ax, pick and shovel, the cellar’s dirt floor and there stacked jars of whatever Grandmam had boiled up, sifted and sealed.