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Women
We sat in a square, not a circle. There was grey patio furniture with black pillows that’d been repurposed as a sectional, accent chairs reupholstered in a dark floral pattern I wasn’t sure I liked, and a large, grey ottoman with tufts and peg legs that stood in the middle. There were also two black...
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This article contains reflections related to child abuse that may be uncomfortable or triggering for survivors and some others. Years ago, I began writing a poem about one of the languages my mother spoke. It began, “Pain is my mother’s tongue, but I speak it fluently.” I thought the line was dope. I did my,...
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