One Year Old

In a circle around the cake were circus animals. An elephant, lion, and monkey adorned the edge of the bead of yellow and blue frosting.

Bottles clinked in the kitchen.

Elm trees began to fall outside the house.

A one year old finger began to reach for an edge of the cake.

The sun was down and the grandparents had arrived.

The cake was wonderful.

Make The Wish

The beginning is lost on the end.
Time is lost between lines of text.
What was meant will never be. Clouds burn houses as the crowds look for water.
Time is not worth the weight it was given.

Nine One One

The room was empty except for an empty jar of preserves and a piece of toast. The windows were nailed shut. A burned yellow paint covered the walls and molding.
On closer inspection they noticed a small note attached to the phone.
In a small lettered hand of blue felt ink were the words" don't travel today." love r.

Relevant

Tie the knives on the strings of balloons and set them free. Tie ties around trees until the message is clear.
Tell secrets to the town folks that choose not to listen.
Wash the pills down the drain and watch the clouds from the kitchen sink.
Cut a potato with a spoon and take a moment to reflect on what you've decided was
Important.

Pencil

A patchwork of farms were hidden behind the dense line of evergreens. The first frost covered the bound circles of hay. The two of them walked through the mud of the field into the dark cover of the dense wood. The Forrest floor was covered with pine needles. They walked until they couldn't see the farms on either side. The light seemed to dim until what once was day seemed night. There eyes adjusted to notice the floor had been cleared of the needles. My partner took out his pencil and began to write on her pad...monday 8:34 am ...first body found.

Tape

Jim wanted to watch the tape but he was the only one. Christopher asked what was on the tape. I just sat on the bed and waited to see who was going to put the tape in the VHS. Jim grabbed the tape, held it in the air and said" well no one has to watch but I am...
I remember the train was passing outside the apartment building. The tape started to wind up. The screen wobbled and the tightened focus on an upstate New York field. We watched the tape for one hour. The only movement on the screen was the grass and clouds.

My Brain Seven

My brain is a small pair of dice. My brain washes up on shore. My brain is lemon lips, cherry tongue. My brain is lost inside piles of twigs and miles of twine. My brain sits alone in the house. My brain is wallpaper. My brain is lights and darks. My brain is folding up it's tent. My brain is broken fibers and melting plastics. My brain watches as the truck turns the corner.

Paper Plates

When I am older I will use paper plates to write you a note. When I am younger I will use paper plates to start a fire. Today I will put my paper plates on the table and wait for tomorrow.

Gingerbread

Gingerbread houses. Barb wire fences. Written words on bedroom walls. Sticky with sugar. Sticky with blood. Hidden in the open but kept out of sight. Sweet and sour to the taste- to the touch. Small curled fingers reach out the moving window. Reflections of trees and sky hide what's inside.

Forgotten Town Folk

Water and oil washes off the kitchen table to the floor drain. Morning light fills the kitchen as the smell of fresh cranberry bread wafts up the walls into the slowly turning ceiling fan. Severed fingers are separated from severed toes into teal ceramic bowls. Seconds become days, minuets years. The night has a story for the ones willing to look. For those willing to ask the ones asking shall receive.

Records

The rooftops are lined up like sugar cubes around her cup of coffee. A match is scratched along the doorframe. Newspaper burns as the toddlers climb the mound of dirt out behind the shed.
Bodies are washing up on the river's shore. The documenting has just begun.

Present

Rivers run to the sea. White foam panels insulate the leftovers as the farm begins to take on water. The rifle is loaded. The family is seeking shelter in the basement.

Where the Air Begins.

Where does the room end and the air begin. Hands touch faces. Leaves cover the wells. We can't see where christopher has chosen to hide. It is not what we believe that matters it is what we feel. Something is wrong and we all know it. Something is eating away at the center of our stomachs as we glide down the saw mill park way.

Boat in Pictures.

I was watching the back yard and waited for the best time to start the cleanup. The clouds were gently blanketing the light from hitting the back yard. The breeze was cool and calm. Do you remember the day we were first waiting to see if the seeds grew. You watered the back yard for 40 days. Then on the 41 day we went outside to see the first sprout come out of the ground. Do you remember the picture of of us sitting in the row boat? The yellow and blue sweater you were pulling over your head? Do you remember how you laughed? The rain started. I remember.

Endings

It wasn't that the town was that far away it was just that I knew it was over. The phone had lousy reception.
"what are you saying.. are we breaking up!"
I finished saying something  but who would really know what words made  it to the satellite and back down. Two tin cans in the backyard would have worked better. 
The Farms were turning in for the night with their hazy yellow light. The earth rolled outside  it's orbit. My chest felt heavy. The sea tipped over the edge. 

Blaming the Frost

The beginning is always a long soft trail of memories, of kettles. Crayons and mandarins fill the table with a pleasant smell. Somehow the neglect game is starting and there is nowhere to hide the ice dam crawling into the kitchen. 

Rain and Clouds

I might see a cloud but not the rain. I could see a bruise but not the pain. I could hear the words but not see a point. I begin to choke and wait for the joke.

When I Choose.

When I choose to remember I see a field of corn. The radio is between channels. The paint is peeling off the barn. When I choose to remember I see her at a counter behind a cup a coffee. Street lights blink on and fill the walk way will oval pools of green light. When I choose to remember I can see the corner of the attic. Behind the knives in a shoebox, I see what I have chosen to forget.