the solice and danger of movement

the solice and danger of movement

[working from both ends to catch up with my journals– so if things seem to be appearing haphazardly from months past or suddenly, today, that is why. this is the consequence of emerging from my most recent, and periodically necessary, tuber phase.]

I’m painting my neices’ white dresses red.

I’m visiting my ex-boyfriend’s mother’s kitchen– she’s a russian jewish immigrant and there’s byzantine folk decor on the walls, jewel-red and gold on shining black– it’s a matched set of planters, mirrors and small hanging fountains, and it’s the sound of the waterworks I focus on: how soothing the chorus of trickling water is.

we’re going to board a train– the doors are closing, and my companions hang back while I make the leap– I don’t quite make it before the doors close and the train begins to move forward, picking up speed– I’m wedged in a kind of entryway alcove and hanging on, heart a-beat– I know I need to be careful with my feet, not let them get caught in the wheels or the track and pull me under– I feel weak and unsure I can do what I need to do: reach up for the doors and swing myself inside. I gather a deep breath, calm my heart, and slowly, carfully manage just that– and I am safe inside the train, hurrying along on my way.

mail
Facebooktwitterpinterestlinkedinyoutube

2 thoughts on “the solice and danger of movement

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Time limit is exhausted. Please reload CAPTCHA.