Nails in the Tree: A Reflection on Trauma

I want to heal from the damage caused by two nails that have pierced me. Over the years, they have twisted themselves into cracked pockets of partial burial, digging in, holding fast to their reluctant host. “Brace yourself,” well-wishers advise. “Just rip those rusty old bastards out and you’ll be free.” It is easy for […]

Scarborough Milk Door, a Photo-poem by Catherine

When soldiers returned to father the Boomers, this house had a miniature door for bottles to enter full and leave empty, waiting to turn opaque with cream again. After the rise of supermarkets, the portal changed to a window, six milky panes slap-spackled in the brick, intimate economies traded for plastic jugs, sloshing bags, and […]