Precarious Kites
(Grace Notes)
* Small Losses

The Keeping Disease
My brother is moving to Thailand. Last time this happened I stored some things for him. “It’s not much,” he said. “Not much” came with an inventory list: boxes and their contents, antique book presses, bookbinding supplies, crates of leather, some complicated looking tools, a very old camera, a satchel. I could go on and on. Most of this stash still dots my house. People say, “What is that?” and I tell the story for my brother.
Leaving Houses
As a child I spent much time cataloging moments: this smell – orange blossoms fallen on the wet bricks after rain – is safety; this sound – ice tinking in glasses, laughter, the thud of children on the landing of the stairs – is holiday; this feeling – salt dried deep in my hair, sand on my calves, the red bright behind my closed eyelids as I turn to face the sun – is summer