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american sentences 2008

May 10, 2009

[as originally published at “the polkadotwitch blog” and “i am maureen”]

JANUARY

1/30
night came at noon today, its black clouds dropping star-flakes over the field.

1/31
our cats break lamps and other things to tell me their food bowl is empty.

FEBRUARY

2/3
someone stuck the middle of the night between what i know and don’t know.

2/26
we forget it’s winter ’til snow covers evening with cancellations.

APRIL

4/8 (for confession tuesday)
my girlfriend blacked out and fell down the stairs with her baby in her arms.

too weak to start chemotherapy, my mother wretches day and night.

if we still love each other, there must be a better way to show it.

i’m not lovable, not in the unconditional dog kisses way.

if this life doesn’t start making sense soon, i’ll have to start a new one.

4/11
away from spring sun, patches of snow huddle together in the woods.

todays’ forecast is partly cloudy. the weather refuses to change.

without american sentences, my napowrimo would have failed.

it’s amazing what can keep you alive: jello, broth and gingerale.

she says her incision is a smiley face. i call it a shark bite.

i’d split myself in two but the doctor’s already busy with you.

AUGUST

8/28 (written for contributions to an american sentences collaboration)

Summer warmth sneaks away by night leaving every blade of grass weeping

Cruel fall steals light from the sunflower, goads hungry birds to peck its face

I dreamed about wandering aimlessly but woke up in my own bed

My mind tilts away from the sun for months, leaves me in total darkness

It’s confusing here, in this space between having a mother and not.

SEPTEMBER

This gray sky, this steely morning: all is metallic. Even I’m stiff, cold.

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