Apéritifs: In the months leading up to the release of our book A Single Throat Opens, a collaborative lyric exploration of addiction (with Michael Schmeltzer), we will be compiling a playlist pairing songs with new writing to be enjoyed before the main course. Cheers, friends.
Not What You Wanted
The light lay across the dusty table so softly, the existence of wind seemed impossible. But my body keeps score. Every gust of wind against my body is still stored there, gathering beneath my skin.
I keep thinking of tornadoes. The way they mount, how all that air collects in just the right way and becomes something so destructive. All those tornado alarms we’d hear echo in my memories. The same memories where you leave me alone, kicking my boots against the brass table legs.
Tonight, late, I took a wet rag to the table, lifted the dust from its place. While I rung the rag out under hot water I remembered how my tongue burned the first time I took my whiskey straight, watching my reflection in the window of the bar while the lights flickered and the tornado alarms rang through our little town, the one you’d driven away from.