Project Type: Anne's Posts

I wonder

what the reverse of a wince is because I feel it in that twitch of a smile within your warmest cringe & what the sound of a heart mending is because I hear it in my name murmured in your fondest breath & how…

love letter

dear amorphous, nameless creature infesting my eyes and throat, thank you. without you would be no writer, husband, home, my mind stuck on my mother, and my mother’s mother. there is some freedom in your trap, some camaraderie gained through sharing the pain of…

when I was a child

it plays over and over in my head
for years


how would you describe yourself? the true question is how would the birds describe me? I hide within the bell jar letting the air stagnate around me as the birds circle around. a center of melted individuality warring with a people-pleaser crust. a bird…


sometimes there are mornings where the car cannot lock until I check my purse for the sixth time and on those days every car is a cop and turns are violent crashes so on those nights before I flip back the pages to diagnose…


blank eyes shine with purpose
they scoop from the bottom of the bowl.


nothing captures
like the tight&loose grip
of an enfolded warmth
and a drifting gaze

and fear

hazy sky consumed with cold
outstretched from the arms it bears
comfort in a thick embrace
& silence


when I was younger & afraid
I never boiled water
for fear of the steam
& the squeal


(a heavy blanket tucked into my body’s expanse) (a large expanse, my mind insists, despite my husband’s pleas otherwise)   months ago she told me it as if I had forgotten but these empty pockets speak a certain kind of malnutrition   and these…