Adriana.K.Maxwell
Maple trees cast lace shadows on the front yard. I lay in the grass where the rabbits laid before and stare up at green. I breathe in deep.
Be gentle with your arrows. Never pull back your string if you are not ready to release. Never aim at anything you don't want to shoot.
The dog doesn't bark, it whimpers. Not safe, not safe, and can't protect itself. All it knows are claws and teeth and you took that away.
My pulse keeps beating, I breathe, the rain rolls in, grass bending, grey sky, the hush of the weather on a grey Saturday
Sweet, chewing sugarcane in the back of a Talubin house, hiding behind concrete because we were ashamed of our spitting skills, black cake of homemade sugar in lemongrass tea in Chapyosen, fresh lemongrass growing at the bottom of the stairs, spear still stored in the rafters
Be kind in the way that you breathe, in the way that you touch plants so the leaves gently sway and never rip, in the way you pick up worms from the sidewalk, in the way you wave flies back outside.
The plank of wood waits, under the dust of it's brothers, waiting, dust glittering the air, the hum of the sander, a little girl picks it up, decorates it with crayon. It still hangs over the door.
The air flows around me, billows up my skirt, power of the sky, cooling with energy
Drip, drip goes the faucet on a tower of dishes, leaning and twisting. Planting soil on the edges of the sink, paintbrushes drying, busy and messy
Wander around the city, I've got 20 minutes to spend, looking for international grocery stores and old antique shops, all the places I've driven by and wondered about but was too busy to drop in
load more entries