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Category: Fiction Fret

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Sorry… ish…

Sorry… ish…

I’m sorry I’ve aged. That gravity has taken its toll on my tits. That my metabolism has slowed and my discipline waned. I’m sorry that my brow furrows more and that my laugh lines appear regardless of my humor. I’m sorry that my standards grow higher as my ass lowers. I’m sorry that you think I should actually apologize for the aforementioned. In truth, I’m not sorry. Sure, there are days when, at a stoplight it’s a tough call; do I yank out an errant grey hair from my scalp or a witchy stray from my chin. Naturally, I wish that workouts were as effective and easy-to-recover from as they a decade ago …. I’d love to have gained the… READ MORE

The Lariat

The Lariat

The lariat bound them together. Literally while she strangled him. And then figuratively for the rest of her life – which was spent in the family’s attic where she would knot and unknot the very same rope that had robbed her of the title she coveted most: mother.

Our Shoes

Our Shoes

The shoes I will wear tomorrow are to fancy for the day. But, they will shine because my daughter will wear a matching pair. Proudly. Lovingly. Voluntarily. And we will each click our heels while we are apart And know that our souls are bonded.

Phone Tooth Fret

Phone Tooth Fret

I just called To talk about my teeth Again. The teeth that you bequeathed me The teeth with which I gnash upon memories Of you. The teeth that are aging faster than I hope The teeth that bear the damnation of your DNA The teeth, for which I pay, pay and pay. Your legacy, my teeth Mother, like daughters Our trio of tusks Damaged. The teeth that join us three Separated by a continent, across phone lines we complain Of our shared dental doom Implants in, another’s out Couldn’t one of us have married a dentist? Gnaw, Nibble, Crunch I chew upon the memory Of the trio, we were once. Gnaw Nibble Crunch Can we scrunch back to that place?… READ MORE

A Fiction Fret

A Fiction Fret

In the Spring of 2014, I entered a short story, The Book of Love: Chapter Two, into a contest.  It – the story below – won third place in The Friends of Palisades Library Contest. She closed the book, placed it on the table, and sat staring at nothing in particular.  Finally, she willed herself to rise and walk out of her office and into their bedroom. What she had known in her gut was now tangible – betrayal, there in black and white for all to see. She walked to her bed as if navigating a ship on a stormy sea. When he saw her expression, he knew that she had read his thinly fictionalized novel.  He retreated to… READ MORE

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