Somnambulant

Too cold and driven, am I? Too riven? Too much the two-spirited one? Blame the blade: the divide between allowed and allowable. One pronoun, never unleashed, hunting its match in the contrary Repelling (and pursuing) the like charge; hopeless, enticing its opposite. The locked-away sound of the poet; a sad dog in a winter. Cellar whimpering: […]

The Banker and the Sweep

When Death comes to your door you are dreaming. It’s the usual nightmare: you’re at the Bank. Clients are lined up to the door. They’re furious. Your assistant is quelling them, her cherubic face glowing. She hangs their camel coats, settles them into the ox blood wing-backs, offers them coffee, and smooths their ruffled feathers. […]