Tag Archives: Heather Minette

I memorialize the night as true. We sang the right words to the anthem of our own imagined empire. There weren’t too many stars in the suburban sky to tell a story that is real. And when I said the … Continue reading →

He is the man who slept beneath the stars, who gifted me the earth’s fireworks. And the dance of tall pine, and the grit of the land, and the way strong men move differently in January’s northern wind. Now he … Continue reading →

side by side with their growing bodies stretched out across the cracked concrete watching the billboards tatter and fade already talking about better days when their parents still slept in the same bed when god was still a man in … Continue reading →

I still see her sometimes, in fragments – the downturned corners of a frown, the small valleys of a clavicle. As if seven years ago the piercing ring of the telephone turned her to glass – and when the voice … Continue reading →