A cordone of yellow tape signals a quarantine zone that I all too willingly step into in the hours that are just slightly morning. Tea seemed to be a good, stable choice. So did making my bed and hanging my clothes. No matter how many times I try remind myself not to, I leave a trail of socks that betray daily little routines. Nearly alive piles at the foot and side of my bed. Inside the closet. Just in front of the sink in the bathroom. Stocking feet can be little precursors to varied...

When my tooth hurts, I’m vaguely compelled to pull every tooth from my mouth. An act of relief and prevention. Pain reminds me that I am aging. I have no problem with aging, but I do have a grievance to reconcile with pain. It’s such a subjective thing. How is another to know that I have contrived some physical ailment by way of injury or emotion? A belittling, this way and that. What if I went to prepare a place for you? I leave sticky notes around my my room. An abundance of yellow slips,...