Tag Archives: Michelle Hendrixson-Miller

Rain Was Not Always a Raging Metaphor

for loneliness, I tell you it happened when you heard that the bee died after the sting. When in your head you said: B is a letter and an animal, and be. And you had to stop there, for a … Continue reading

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[Unravel]

One day, when I am old and wavering, an ant climbing around my thigh (my thigh like a mountain) may feel like human touch, the touch of a lover, not any lover. I will close my eyes then and argue, … Continue reading

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from Letters to a Former Self

Of all the sweet and weighted fruit: plum, pineapple, persimmon, it is the pear you will notice most, depicted and hung on waiting room and café walls. The pear with its full spill of yellow roundness like a woman’s pregnant … Continue reading

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Silences

Along the memory stores, the vendors all day hawking their wares. Among the wreaths, necklaces, and black rubber-soled shoes, that day I ran home, told no one. * When we went to Pappy’s house how soon my nose would stop … Continue reading

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