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Cita's Blog – May 2012 Archive (8)
An Island Piece
From the national debt to the dishes in the sink the drama all seems turned up high, so she retreats like a turtle into her shell, draws in her exposed parts and waits for the damnits to pass.
Her thermometer is broken, the mercury in flux even when the emotions are becalmed, and the bedroom is truly becalmed.
Touch me touch me, her skin cries out; don't touch me don't touch me contradicts her eyes.…
ContinueAdded by Cita on May 24, 2012 at 12:28pm — 7 Comments
Year of the Damselfly
At night the toad, same color as the dirt, sits in a puddle of yardlight, rapid of tongue, and waits for the crowd to gather.
The bull snake curls up in the lettuces in midday.
The days wear on, heating up and cooling off as only desert days can, baking and waking, broiling and toiling, ceasing and releasing.
The Arizona lupine has faded, and the water is dropping out of the creek, leaving red scum behind.
The mallards rest in the reeds, and the heron pants in…
ContinueAdded by Cita on May 23, 2012 at 7:10pm — 4 Comments
Six (Unrelated) Sentences from a New Novel
He wondered what it would be like to have someone lift the other end of something heavy, even if it was just an interesting thought.
Through the end of his tears, the boy saw his savior coming just in the way that Delbert Lincoln held the clipping, still gazing at it through his new glasses.
The all “B” thing was Brenna’s idea, and when she was seventeen, looking like an obscene china doll, waddling around with Bliss in her belly, her hair in two pigtails, it…
ContinueAdded by Cita on May 14, 2012 at 7:00pm — 11 Comments
Saddle up your Zebra
I sat down at my desk this morning at 6:51am after having made coffee, fed the horses and the yellow sauce-pot cat, walked to close that gate at the end of the lane, picked lettuce, put out more grape jelly and seed for the birds, washed my hair.
I don't know how to do this, how to write a novel, and I hope I am always doing something I don't know how to do.
I am on a list-serve for writers, but all they ever talk about is publication and promotion which is like going to a…
ContinueAdded by Cita on May 13, 2012 at 11:10am — 6 Comments
Dumping and Dignity
Every woman should dump a man at least once in her life... not the horrible earth-shattering curl-into-a-fetal-position painful ending of a marriage (possibly with children) kind of dumping, though I have done that, too, and though the dawning of the knowledge that the end was coming seemed gradual, I had one of those flash-of-recognition moments marking the end, but this story isn't about that.
Divorce aside, every woman should have the memory of one of those moments where she tells…
ContinueAdded by Cita on May 13, 2012 at 10:30am — 7 Comments
May 11
May 11 and you're not here.
May 11 and oh now the sun did shine.
May 11 and tomorrow is the 12th and my horoscope says I should not vent my anger on anyone, so I'd better not kick the dog since that is the only one who will be here but me, or maybe I'll kill off a character in this novel I am writing because that is a bloodless vent.
May 11 and maybe I'll just kill the white rooster that keeps trying to attack me when I gather eggs (his name is SoupPot,…
ContinueAdded by Cita on May 11, 2012 at 10:35pm — 6 Comments
Not Like the Old Man
The boy always blushed and looked away, looked busy, got busy for that matter, when the old man aired his horse's back.
He'd only let himself think the thought one time, then firmly closed that door, but there was something almost sexual about how the old man would uncinch, and then, before lifting the back of the saddle and pad, run his hand and arm gently and fimly over the horse's ass, all the way down to the middle of the tail.
Sure, he was doing it to…
ContinueAdded by Cita on May 11, 2012 at 5:30pm — 4 Comments
In the Vernacular
I have a new bull bag on my horn, and the whole thing is newly wrapped in mulehide to make my horn bigger for when I dally in the branding pen.
The bag is gray, like the longear bull we got it from, the one we headed and heeled and tipped over, but the three-awn is turning the grassy space between here and the barn a jewel-toned red.
The hair is still on the bull bag and I asked how long it would take to sluff, and he said it depends on how much I pet on it…
ContinueAdded by Cita on May 6, 2012 at 10:30pm — 5 Comments
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