What we fear may not come to pass. Though the wind this year has been violent, and the sky rainless, the tree we planted in front of our house because we imagined some kind of life there, some green hope, some shelter from the weather and the neighbors, may survive. As I drive to work, … Continue reading Evergreen
by Chera Hammons
You are made in a darkness that warms and rustles, and settles, folded under the dusk-sound of cicadas singing as softly as a woman undressing in the pale gold of a lamp before bed. But you don’t know that song, not yet. The curve is at your back and you curl against it. Soon you … Continue reading Incubate
by Chera Hammons
This is an end-of-the-world kind of love. You know, a grab-onto-something-because- the whole-place-is-coming-down sort of situation. When all of the volcanoes erupt at the same time, and the sun supernovas, you’ll still be hottest. When the nukes go off in billowing fungi, we’ll close our eyes and imagine the earth climbing up a mountain in … Continue reading Emergency Supplies
by Chera Hammons
