Catherine Reynolds

I used to think of growth like a ladder. Rung by rung, I climbed. I couldn’t see The ground, nor could I see the peak. If it’s lonely at the top,

“Enunciate, please!” “You’re talking too fast.” “Quit slurring your words.” “We’ll break you of that.”   These are the voices Others put into my head. How can this part of me Be

How are you doing?  “Great! Fine.” “Good. Well . . .” I smile. So do you. Teeth gleam in rows under curved lips. Our eyebrows raise, our eyes widen.     Then I walk away, hands in my

“We don’t use the fireplace anymore.” I was the only one who used it anyway.   I used it; I loved it. I loved the fire’s dancing, Contained in a cage.   It