Stone Canoe: “Untethered”

Untethered published in Stone Canoe

My old habits return as villagers who rise in the night. Grief is exhausting, my sister says, a quiet dismantling.

until the movers arrive, I hover over the final load— half-finished bottles, a chipped table, clothes familiar with my body's

weight. Fake berries remain stoic in a pocked, weathered vase. Piece by piece the house disassembles.

Once on a rural road two horses harnessed to each other barreled into traffic forcing the cars to halt.

Men jumped from a pickup to restrain the pair, save us from their own dumb strength.