“Nothing looks more painfully calm than an autumn twilight. The sun rays pale in the quivering air, the old trees cast their leaves. The country, scorched by the ardent beams of summer, feels death coming with the first cold winds. And, in the sky, there are plaintive sighs of despair. Night falls from above, bringing winding sheets in its shade.” ~ Émile Zola, from Therese Raquin


 

Monday evening. Clear and temperate, 65 degrees.

I’ve been in a bit of a fog for several days now. Not really sure what’s going on. Just beginning to feel a bit better today. I had my six-month check-up with my PCP. Forgot to tell her how I’m craving sugar all of the time. I’ll have to try to remember to call tomorrow to say, “by the way, when she asked if anything was new, the answer was actually yes . . .”

Sorry I’ve been so lax lately. Thanks to the newest followers. Hoping to get back into some kind of groove this week. For now, have this little ditty:

Can you name the 50 different words in Dr. Seuss’ ‘Green Eggs and Ham’?

Well…can you?

                   

Late October

Midnight.  The cats under the open window,
their guttural, territorial yowls.

Crouched in the neighbor’s driveway with a broom,
I jab at them with the bristle end,

chasing their raised tails as they scramble
from bush to bush, intent on killing each other.

I shout and kick until they finally
give it up; one shimmies beneath the fence,

the other under a car.  I stand in my underwear
in the trembling quiet, remembering my dream.

Something had been stolen from me, valueless
and irreplaceable.  Grease and grass blades

were stuck to the bottoms of my feet.
I was shaking and sweating.  I had wanted

to kill them.  The moon was a white dinner plate
broken exactly in half.  I saw myself as I was:

forty-one years old, standing on a slab
of cold concrete, a broom handle slipping

from my hands, my breasts bare, my hair
on end, afraid of what I might do next.

~ Dorianne Laux

                   

Music by Trentemøller, “Deceive”