the muse reminds me…

childhood memories of a yukon spring

Dirt and rock roads slush brown. Stunted pines shrug off snow in a chorus of huffs. Dirt eats snow. Bikes come out of sheds. Snow pants fold and hibernate. Skinny bears lick sleep out of their eyes. The winter lazy sun starts to climb again. Dads shave off their beards. Pale skin squints at the sky. Teeter totters thaw.

fire, earth, & legacy

Granny has a little plot in the Ross Bay Cemetery at the edge of the ocean. Enough for us all to be carefully organized stacks of ashes. To be together, contained, forever. Granny, Grandpa and Uncle Chris have already snuggled in. The alive ones go on holidays and anniversaries, namesake days, death and birth days to garden it.

on my maternal grandparents who survived the holocaust

parchment walls

sinew lines stretch

hanging the bones

calcified tomes

translate trochanter nodes