by Bradley David
Rain fogs above holiday snow and stocking yarn is stretched from here to the mud. Mother sent the rainbow skein after adult divorce and I decided to make pin art of the yard’s bare saplings instead of donating it with a box of cheap teacups that burn your hand when you cling to them for dear grief. When you’re wanting everything back just long enough to unravel why emptiness sticks around so long. Before heading out for the thrift store, I let my hand burn against jasmine tea and notice the menacing blotch on my wrist remains unchanged. Meanwhile, the finger with which I’ve been applying its ointment has been unabashedly bouncing off a trampoline in broad daylight. What is this stuff?
__________
Bradley David’s work appears in Terrain.org, JMWW, Los Angeles Review, Identity Theory, etc. He is Pushcart nominated and is a senior editor at JMWW.
