Asthma in Summer: Family Vacation at Virginia Beach
The oppressive night
like a blanket. Layers
of wetness on
my bronchial tubes, my
limbs; my
husband’s body
on top of me. I
want to walk out, to the bay,
the ocean, to a
mountain, to a place of
stars.
In my dream,
men keep women’s
selves,
women’s souls, in
little jars along
the mantel, and it makes it so
much easier. Then
the women hold the broom,
the fork, but
not the knife. At Kokoro,
the Japanese chef
tosses it in the air—and
catches it.
My children.
The sticking point.
I …
