and now when it rains
bold, bubbly Kishore Kumar songs
chai, mandatory
Anonymous, Untitled, IVF placenta print with acrylic paint, 2024. Courtesy of the artist.
Read More“Just swallow quick and you won’t feel it squirm,” Abby says.
I wipe my palms on my jeans. No way. There is no way. Abby holds the spider by one leg and, I swear, its hairs sway with the breeze and I think about the feel of that spider in my throat.
Think about how it will stick, those spindly legs working their way back onto my tongue and then I think about the taste.
“You won’t have to bite it or anything,” Abby says.
My stomach pushes towards my tonsils. My breakfast tries to surface. I swallow it back, though I want to let it fly, dream of spewing Cheerios in Abby’s face. I smile. Accidentally. The idea of splitting that spider with my teeth, knowing it will squirt, erases that smile. I also know if I puke on Abby, I’m a goner…
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It took me a week and a lifetime and an infinity to pick up the phone.
I told my therapist about the offer to join their family.
That they’d be willing to move to make it work.
“I think if they’re considering moving to include you,” he said, “you’re already part of the family.”
The message was clear.
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What does a flower feel when it blossoms? Soft? Beautiful?
After being a seed, then a sprout, how does it feel to unfurl?
Nothing like the process that it took to get there.
— Your mother, on the phone last week
