He must have realized his laugh was like one of those paper shredders making a sad confetti of my hopes.

Playing chess taught me a queen is both: deadly & graceful, poised & ruthless. Quiet & cunning. A queen offers her hand to be kissed, & can form it into a fist while smiling the whole damn time.

We stack our faith up like spinal discs to hold us upright; it gives us language to fill our mouths & hearts & ears. Gives us deities to call on that might answer & bring my father home.

I want to hate this dead woman. For the way even talking about her twists up my mother’s face. This dead woman, who made my father visit, & have a child, & board a plane that fell into the ocean. I am slow to put the pieces together. I want to hate a dead woman, & her daughter who most likely hates me for making my father leave her in t

I’ve always preferred playing black on the chessboard. Always advancing, conquering my offending other side.

You do not let your words stunt unknown possibilities.

Such a funny phrase, pay respects. As if suffering is a debt that can be eased by a hug & a head nod.

“Ships have gone down in this water, gold has been lost here, the banks have eroded, cities have been built & destroyed at its shores, tribes have crossed it & never crossed back. But the Mississippi rises & falls; it rises & falls. Everything changes, but the water rises & falls.”

A truth you did not want to know can rot & grow mold in the pit of your stomach, can sour every taste you’ve ever had, can cast a stench so bad you forget you’ve ever known a sweet thing.