Tag Archives: Julia Bonadies

I come from a reverent kind of stillness. Front row, crossed legs, fingers clasped in my lap a white knuckle steeple that only opened to praise. Palms pressed to pray to a God I couldn’t always see but they told … Continue reading →

after David Budbill but a place where you commemorate being two months sober from love by running until you throw up everything you’ve consumed watching The Office in between binge-reading memoirs to remind yourself of the people who have suffered … Continue reading →

after Maria Mazziotti Gillian my grandmother’s brain, and the few things it forgets. The rotating library full of acquired cataloged knowledge, memories, random family artifacts, bits of trivia, recipes for food, and remedies for healing yourself. The names of anyone … Continue reading →

My gray Converse, warped, falling apart— trudge through Cape Cod sand in the last days of September, the tarnished toes, permanently speckled with periwinkle paint that matches the freshly coated walls of Ms. Hollis’s hilltop homestead in the West Virginia … Continue reading →

Order painted ladies off the internet and watch them grow from caterpillar, chrysalis, cocoon, fly, die. Metamorphosize than photosynthesize, pollination is sexualization. Dissect the diagrams of daffodils. Unfold yourself in the white clawfoot tub and wait for stimulation. Soap-on-the-tongue condemnation. … Continue reading →

after Kim Addonizio I want an unkempt home. I want it big and busy. I want a door that’s never locked. I want a welcome mat worn down to threads. I want to follow footprints through my kitchen, and find … Continue reading →