When was the last time you read a romance novel?
My answer does not count. I recently read three for the sole purpose of finding one to review, but the previous time was certainly before college.
I was scheduled to be naked at ten in the morning on Saturday. This was a conflict with my uber-religious community and my lifetime of body shame. I drove to the studio anyway. The artist…
Eldria is a technician on a team that has unlocked the secret to prayer. The learning machine has labored for years. It has uttered prayers both ancient and fresh, rote and random, then monitored weather…
It wasn’t a surprise
when they wrapped their hands
around my body like
chestnut leaves,
linen bindings,
tatted antimacassar lovingly draped,
I was never so finely adorned.
Last night she lay in bed and read the men’s words while blood flowed
and spread like a petal, pooled and ached, red as stymied truth.
Every woman from twelve to sixty could have told them life is
mutable, if they would have asked her—a flutter, a gush, a
screaming love
they went to Mount Charleston for the sagebrush the pines
the all-women
I’m no Mormon but ask Google, can you take the Mormon
out of a once-Mormon? I’m Mormon. Former
stay-at-home Mormon mom. A non-drinker
One summer dusk I floated in the swimming pool as billowing
black thunderheads glowered on every horizon, spitting
lightning at the earth as night gathered beyond
them. I willed the monsoon
A head-scratcher for sure
how to plug us into
your power grid
She puts her hands on my head
By the power of the divine womanhood we both share,
And blesses me to love myself, to love others,
To feel power in moving forward,
To see clearly, and kindly.