The Mechanics of Regret
Previously published in Button Eye Review.
My grandma often hinged at her hips
trying to relieve a hunched spine
and generations of rue.
She would unfold all the way back
to her native tongue
slip in a foreign word to ensure
I felt the weight of her conscience.
Fylleangst. The Norwegian term
for the fear and anxiety one feels
when trying to recall their actions
the day after being blackout drunk.
But she wasn’t referring to one hangover
she encompassed a lifetime.
During the Second World War
she was a teen caught in a tryst
with a German soldier
who had invaded her homeland…
even after all these years
she could never confess all the way.
I only know how the story ends
with sparse details on how it began.
Antique skeletons are still skeletons
that take up space in a closet
or a body, she often said.
I’m not the type to expose shortcomings
but I will mention, by that point
her frame was tiny, all bone
existing just beneath paper thin skin.
Lucid
Previously published in Shot Glass Journal.
I’m trapped in a phonebooth attempting a call
to a past life, circa nineteen-ninety-two.
I try to connect with my mother
to distract her from repeating the same mistakes.
In this recurring dream the receiver is silent.
The only sound is the moon as it wobbles
and scrapes across the atmosphere.
But the call never gets through, my words
caged within the mouthpiece seep out like a kink
that should’ve stayed fastened to the background.
I vacate the booth and continue creating demons
to use as alibis for crimes I have yet to commit.
Orbits
Previously published in Maya's Micros.
In moments of nervousness
when every approaching minute
is an unknown consequence
I’m certain the beating of my heart
can be heard around the world
as muted thuds travel through me
and nudge the earth off its orbit.
Tell me I’m being overdramatic
and that a single heartbeat
could never be felt by someone
on a different continent.
But think of me when the sound
of a faucet drip has wormed its way
into your mind and the actual leak
is nowhere to be found.