Credo I believe in tenderness. I believe in lying on your porch swing on a summer night and watching the passersby. I believe in eating as many Oreos as you want. I believe that climbing down the mountain is harder than hiking up. I believe in standing in the doorway watching your small children as … Continue reading Andes Mint #11: Credo
You were a small girl and the state fair concessionaire stands sold pink puffs of spun sugar in paper cones, mesh bags of tiny boiled red potatoes salted and buttered, paper containers filled with fried fat-bellied clams glistening with oil. Paper cups filled with lemonade made from a squeezed lemon stirred up with sugar and … Continue reading Andes Mint #10: Steamed clams and boiled new potatoes
You and your girls and their friend were in London, staying in a sunny room with four twin beds at the top of four long, narrow flights of carpeted stairs that one of you always stumbled on at least once. You strolled Kensington Garden and had afternoon tea. You admired Princess Di’s dresses, still and … Continue reading Andes Mint #9: Show me a girl who's not afraid
Mimesis – Fady Joudah My daughter wouldn’t hurt a spider that had nested between her bicycle handles for two weeks She waited until it left of its own accord If you tear down the web I said it will simply know this isn’t a place to call home and you’d get to go biking She … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by Fady Joudah
Tanka* (the last time) I’m crazy about you, he ran back up four flights to whisper. His eyes, burning. His coat, flying. His decision, already made. *A tanka is a Japanese poem consisting of five lines, the first and third of which have five syllables and the others seven. Tankas, like the blues, often … Continue reading Andes Mint #7: Tanka (the last time)
When you think of Charlie, which you do every day, he appears to you smiling, sitting on a chair wearing dark pants, a white shirt with a faint stripe, dark shoes. The chair is simple, one step up from a folding chair, and it’s set on the linoleum floor of the dark pantry-like space in … Continue reading Andes Mint #6: Phantom ice cream
She was fifty-five when you were born. Hers is the first face you conjure at dawn when you bow your head to your clasped hands. Hers is the scent that you tracked through a Hallmark card store until you found the old lady wearing it, bent over the Get Well cards, who looked up when … Continue reading Andes Mint #5: and she drove like a bat out of hell, too.