Managing meds, or “in which I am a lab rat.”
When I first got sick, I used to make jokes about my extensive medicine cabinet, which, at that point, was a drawer with about three packages of pills in it. Continue Reading →
Tag Archives: My poems
Stretching Days
Sometimes I go for a walk in the afternoons, when the rain is still dripping from branches and letterboxes and the clouds on the hills look empty While I wander, Continue Reading →
All the words are written
I love reading poetry. Poetry makes me remember to breathe when everything is dark. Poetry slides my heart delicately from beneath my skin and stabs it bleeding onto the page. Continue Reading →