And Painted the Floor

In the kitchen my mother was dead with no religion; she’d bumped her head and painted the floor.   Dead head red linoleum   Mother were your eyes closed or open? Only the cat knows as well as policemen.   Bloated bag of bones drained and taking space in chest of drawers… you don’t belongContinue reading “And Painted the Floor”

Wishing For Death: 1

Understand me. I wished him dead. I did have half a mind to kill him once, with a cast iron skillet, caught up in the white-hot frenzy. I was fourteen years old, and convinced I was prepared to murder the man choking my mother in the kitchen while a beef roast baked in the oven.Continue reading “Wishing For Death: 1”