Telling: Altars & Artifacts


spirit flesh

Tucker's weaned. My baby years are over. The scaffolding of hormones that has held me aloft over the last decade, crumbles. I am released back into the maelstrom of my emotions. Emotions so fierce they are physical. Desire is a taste I carry in my mouth, flavoring every word that crosses my tongue. Language and hunger. My old dancing partners. I had almost forgotten the rhythm of wanting, sweet undulation, craving without end. Almost forgotten how I am.

Now here I am again. Whatever will I do?

A Mother's Journal

field notes from
1997 - 1999