Tag Archives: Karen Neuberg

The edge is a map. A misstep, a missile. Sinister to touch, siren to call. Imagined in storm, on the stair in the dark. Might lead to a table. To a cellar. To a stall. Could be the answer, searched for or not. Surrounded by promise. Hidden by hail. Stacked to the brim so the […]

I lied about what I wanted. Instead I wrote a thank you note for what I got. When I tricked myself once too often, I tripped myself. And on up the stairs. To see the stars. There he kissed me. That was not a lie. Or not a lie I knew as a lie. This […]