Toward High Noon

May 1, 2012

Egg yolk spilled across the sky three minutes earlier this morning, pooling over metallic blue in patches. As I trudge forward, sand screws up to my knees during long gusts to remind me that even in the desert I am not alone in waking. This is not a spiritual quest; this is not a nightmare, for that implies brevity. This is a purposeful challenge to that slobbering, scrap-iron pig, Death.

Wilted cacti already duplicate in periphery and my hands tremble over my pack’s straps. I will not spend energy thinking on this. I may survive. And I may die. But this fight is going to end with cold fists meeting dry metal.


Fear

June 3, 2010

His knuckles and jewelry battered against my nose and the bones in my face negotiated their positions as if they had always longed to invert themselves, to shuffle lines and sockets like new puzzle pieces.  My hands swiped at his jugular before the emerald ring hammered into my mouth, prying my teeth out in groups until I looked like a piano without keys.  Choking on saliva, my head jerked back as he pulled my collar toward his face.  Blood pooled under my tongue and canines scraped along my stomach lining, pushing up vomit as he shouted in my ears.  He was asking me questions.  I’m sure he was asking me questions.


High on a Cliff

May 10, 2010

Minerva admired the ocean from her house overlooking the bay, the old lighthouse standing next to her right thumb as she held her fingers in the shape of a frame.  Often the wind at the edge of the cliff blew too hard to allow her to step onto the porch with her camera, and today it moaned while floorboards rattled, rubbed together like bones, sank closer to the earth like her skin.  Rain blotted the sunken glass like gum syrup and the waves that uncurled under the precipice seemed to swell and relax like a tongue licking at the clay supporting her home.  Through her fisheye pane, the sea grew as if a yawning mouth with white, sea froth running from blue lips, panting, “Down, down” on the bluff walls.  Staring into Death, she felt a tremor jostle her to the floor as if the very foundations were shaking.