Personal Essay

5:55

Those who run are not justly named human; we are creatures of flight, as the slight bound of toe to churned rubber or pavement or comfortably loose cinder lasts far less than a worldly second. We are primitive, though our instincts may be attuned to more modern signals of the “fight or flight” response: stress, …

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Poetry

Kintsugi

You saw me cracked, a soft-colored thing, thin walls. You sought to spackle my wounds with fool’s gold, covering the holes with weak beauty, without substance. You made quickly with your cheap labor, coating over spaces but not filling between, and your gold looked good for Everyone. Maintenance wasn’t what you signed up for. I …

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Poetry

Bodies, Worshipped

I gave my sermon through my hands, circling my thumbs in hymnal repetition, every moment of resistance between our skin an outcry from the congregation of nerves, the need to be closer to that they worship. Our bodies have been temples for unsure followers. They stumbled through the doors in an effort to find faith, …

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