Bedtime Flashes for My Wife

Unhatched

Once she came across an egg and the egg was in the green of a field and she saw no mama in sight. She took the egg into her arms, into her house, and waited for it to crack. She tapped on it. Knocked it down by accident and the shell broke and the egg remained. She cussed it till her throat went sore, threatened to eat it whole. Promised.

The Veiled House

The web is washed and primed. They will paint it violet and the whores are at Denny’s deciding between sweet or savory and when ghosts arrive at your door, begging for treats, you welcome them into your veil. Let them smell your hair, the shampoo that makes you coconut and the citric quench of an iced greyhound. The widow hammocks you with her tresses, putting all your tricks to sleep.

Her Heart, Her Horse

She gave up her mustang for the carousel. For the one horse, dappled and gray. Gilded reins and a sunburst painted in its eye, it was neither in gallop or standing. In the middle of the air, her “I do” became a golden gate and she stood there in the fog and traffic rushed behind her and the ocean waved and she tossed her heart to rabid rocks.

The Path Took Her

From her wishbone, a child the color of Concord grapes and Caribbean sand. The shine of dolphin’s skin, his eyes blink, and there is no wonder. The thunder put its electricity inside her. Four pm afternoon, she descended wooden steps into the lagoon—she was awesome strolling through this leafy throat. The path took her to a eucalyptus tree, its branches shaped into doors and windows, and she opened.