My Face Becomes A Picasso Sketch, My

Censorship Is The Child Of Fear And The Father Of Ignorance.

I Have Never Heard A More Eloquent Silence.

I've Written In Every Imaginable Location; A Repurposed Closet, The Kitchen Table, The Bleachers While My Kids Had Basketball Practice, The Front Seat Of The Car When They Were At Soccer. In Airports. On Trains. In The Break Room When I Was Supposed To Be Wolfing Down Dinner. In The Back Of Classrooms When I Was Supposed To Be Paying Attention.

I Can See Us, Living In The Woods, Her Wearing That A, Me With A S Maybe, S For Silent, S For Stupid, For Scared. S For Silly. For Shame.

I Nod Like I’m Listening,like We’re Communicating, And She Never Knows The Difference.