On Wednesday, I start writing things down.
\nThey are something like a poem, something
\nlike a house fire. We have enough food <\/p>\n
for a week and the pets all make it out.
\nThe trees are sumptuous and dramatic
\nand rarely on fire. My hands are bone <\/p>\n
white and only sometimes on fire.
\nEvery dream has a dollhouse and every
\ndollhouse, a dream of moss, creeping <\/p>\n
across the floor like carpet. Still, my ghosts
\nwear heavy shoes and rattle the bed at night.
\nAll of them have other lovers. I can smell <\/p>\n
the violets on their hands and the sweet
\nache of their molars. I circle each one
\nwith a red pen, then start again. <\/p>\n
Map the distance, the weight
\nbetween desire and necessity.
\nDear, it’s not so good. <\/p>\n
Sometimes I can trick myself into something
\nlike writing by moving words across the page
\nlike peculiar, but overly extravagant, insects. <\/p>\n
Sometimes, more the idea of words, like horses On Wednesday, I start writing things down. They are something like a poem, something like a house fire. We have enough food for a week and the pets all make it out. The trees are sumptuous and dramatic and rarely<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":384,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[9926],"tags":[22071],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/libblogs.luc.edu\/requited\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/87"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/libblogs.luc.edu\/requited\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/libblogs.luc.edu\/requited\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/libblogs.luc.edu\/requited\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/384"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/libblogs.luc.edu\/requited\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=87"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/libblogs.luc.edu\/requited\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/87\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1963,"href":"https:\/\/libblogs.luc.edu\/requited\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/87\/revisions\/1963"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/libblogs.luc.edu\/requited\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=87"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/libblogs.luc.edu\/requited\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=87"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/libblogs.luc.edu\/requited\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=87"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nor bricks in the houses we do not own.
\nMostly I just burn.
\n
\nA writer and visual artist, Kristy Bowen<\/strong> is the author of several book and chapbook projects, including brief history of girl as match, in the bird museum<\/em> and the fever almanac.<\/em> She lives in Chicago, where she runs dancing girl press & studio, an indie press and design studio. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"