Exchange
I know how to take the hand of God and hold it in my own.
I know how to nestle in the sweetness of Her stillness,
Doze to the lullaby of Her breath,
Steal shy kisses from Her mouth.
Entries by Nancy Tierney
August 15, 2017
They say, “Remember a time when…”
But I don’t want to.
They say, “Tell us about a memory you have of…”
And I say, No.
For what is memory but moldy meat,
The cold and crusted soup in an unwashed pot,
The greening scum in a dirty cup?
Baby Maple
Last night, a murder took place in my back yard.
Someone, I believe it was Robert, murdered my baby Japanese Maple tree. He crept into my yard and cut its throat in a clean diagonal line and left its leafy head where it hit the ground. When I went out onto my back deck to feed the squirrels this morning, it was the first thing I saw. The feathery tangle of maroon leaves no longer held high but in the dirt. I ran over to it, saying, “Oh, no. Oh, no,” hoping the tree was merely bent, that the squirrels had been overly playful and it had caught on something.
Texting
Here it comes.
The beguiling dance of little balls cresting and falling
On the bottom of the screen…
Resurrection
Just when I thought I’d forgotten how, when I was sure the flicker and spark had turned to a thin line of vapor, and too much regret had emptied me of the inclination, I spent the last 10 minutes flirting like a pro. It wasn’t hard. I didn’t even have to think about it. I wasn’t even trying. I just looked into his eyes and smiled, and the rest rose up in me like bubbles in champagne. So sweet. So familiar. So missed, this giddiness. This sly delight. This resurrection.