friends mothers sisters

the tide has inched its way up and we were talking.  we didn’t notice how it soaked the edges of our towels. it gets pulled back to its center, straight into the heart of the ocean, leaving clams and shells and sand dollars, water running off each side. all these gifts from the sea. “watch

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glory be and saints alive

i’m spending a week with words. i call home and hear the news of home.  at home there is a lot going on.  babies just found out and children needing thermometers.  a true friend hearing truly hard news.  but i’m not home, i’m here. it creates a tension in my stomach and i wonder why

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wear you like a garment

children shriek like whistles and plastc chairs scrape as they scooch in the atrium. i try to go down the waterside 37 times. one for every year of my life on earth. i make it to 26. and i’m okay with it. that’s a lot of water sliding. there’s a family of four boys and

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everyday

i’m cutting back the climbing rose vines and leaning off the edge of the porch trying to reach the ones that have grown up past the gutters. my next door neighbor is black. she’s out on her porch and she’s watching me.  we’ve been talking about roses and tattoos and coming up in the city.

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wear forgiveness like a crown

she’s running down the shore with her brother.  at some point she takes off the two small circles of glass before her eyes and tosses them without a thought back into the sand they came from. she lost the last pair up north.  she slipped away from us then and we searched the fields. when

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clara

i sit next to her in the lunchroom.  we are at a table off to the side and an aide hovers, helpful, watching. the little girl next to us tells me for the thirtieth time that umbrella starts with the letter u and it is beginning to bug me.  usually i don’t mind.  when monique

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when a poet comes over

they come through the door and her girls go in either direction.  she stands there, their center.  i know that when a poet comes over she experiences a place with all five of her senses. i’ve brewed espresso and i’ve steamed the milk.  when she was in ethiopia and drinking coffee from the hand of

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a child through the window

we are talking about fasting, she and i.  we are smoking outside, drinking wine and talking about jesus on the eve of ash wednesday. “when you fail at fasting during lent,” i say, “that’s kind of the point.” i’ve never been impressed by the idea of the lenten season. “we try to give up something

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the digs

we moved into detroit four months ago.  my house is where i find myself most days and looking around, i thought of all of you lovely friends that may be curious about what the place looks like… so come on in. these photos are just some odds and ends you’ll find inside our doors.  as

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family resemblance

“i ask not only on behalf of these, but on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one.  as you, father, are in me and i am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me.”

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