Back to Fall 2021

cave diving for emotional intimacy

He casually refers to his mind as a hole

in the ground. I have to agree

with this description. We often

have the same conversation twice. I don’t mind

the repetition. I like telling stories over & over

& he is a good listener. He is fascinated

by each story that I am still

finding the words to tell. I know

that my mind was not created the same way.

If his mind is a hole then it is a shallow one

that I have my arm plunged into only

up to my elbow. I am looking

for everything I can learn, anything small

that I can pluck up with my fingers.

When he goes searching in my mind,

he has to tie a rope around his waist

before embarking.

I don’t have a clue what he will find

after the first mile down. I am usually

too afraid to look behind the stalagmites,

what has been fossilized & what has crumbled

to dust. When he returns, he tells me

about his findings using the newest

archeological jargon, & I am surprised

each time. I don’t mind the repetition.

local mother tells only child to go get laid

I still frequently confuse the sound of Stevie Nicks

crooning through the car stereo with my own mother’s voice,

rising above the other backup girls in the worship band

every Sunday, humming through her nose on her way back

from the grocery store. In those same harmonies, a wink

& smile for always trying my best & no less

than three mugs of coffee every morning, she’d read

to me every night about Ruth & Esther, told me—her manicured nails

clawing into my baby-fattened cheeks—not to be a wife of Lot

if I can help it: to never look back at a burning city

& to marry myself first. I had to learn how

on the internet. We still hold hands

when we cross the street until the blinking clock turns red-eyed

like a cicada, flashing an open palm, & I am always

so frightened I sprint to the curb by myself. When I finally came home

for the winter like a lost city pigeon, my first & only coffee

steaming into my face, I told her about my theory

that if I had more regrets in the first place,

each new one would hurt a little less. She frowned,

brushed the Florida-blonde hair she’d given me

for my last birthday out of my eyes, & generally agreed with me.

I can see the headline now: