B+

I sat and rhythmically squeezed a smiling, yellow rubber-ball and watched my blood, as dark as shiraz, inflate the flat canvas of a plastic bag.
I was at the Kilasch hospital in Godrej, India on a field trip to study sustainable practices in a small village. We were given a tour of the hospital which was designed with sustainability in mind. When we arrived at the lobotomy lab, our tour guide, Pranav, told us that the hospital was dangerously low on blood donations.

As I Lie Here

As I lie here, wanting to remember if you, still, sometimes love me, as I, still, all of the time, love you, I feel your absence weigh down on the wrinkled body of the mattress on which I lie and our legs once shuffled themselves beneath these white sheets. As I lie here, tracing the letters formed by the curves of your hair, I can read the ways in which we wrote our love between the margins of this bed frame. All of this, I can remember, as I lie here, but what good are these recollections if they rest…

Dreams a lot like love

She knew me when I was different. She knew me when I believed in complete unfettered love. I believed in the kind of love that makes an introvert extroverted. The kind of love where you spend hours scribbling down romantic poems during a college lecture, and the kind of love that moves you to read said love poem in front of a room full of adults—just because she’s there and because you’re a romantic. I was a romantic and that’s when Kelly knew me. The last time I saw her was last night. We were swimming. Well, she was swimming…

In wine with you

Love has marooned my tongue. Which is o.k. My cheeks were full of its dryness. So, let’s not talk of love but of wine. Grapes have always been easier to swallow Especially, ever since I’ve been in wine with you. As I put these words down, With every swallow from your cup Not mincing words, But expressing taste without much ado Untying my tongue because I’m in wine with you. Let’s not mention love She will requite us when she returns Can we wallow in fruitfulness of our pallets? And trap the woe into our new glass house. Can we…

Coda on requited love

“There’s a trick to the ‘graceful exit.’ It begins with the vision to recognize when a job, a life stage, or a relationship is over — and let it go. It means leaving what’s over without denying its validity or its past importance to our lives. It involves a sense of future, a belief that every exit line is an entry, that we are moving up, rather than out.” -Ellen Goodman I write this fully aware of the danger one may encounter when writing about their experience with others.  Especially when, in this particular event, the other is not present…

Body of Evidence

Body of Evidence: By Anthony Conwright: Your body is a temple Built on pillars of strength from both sides of your spinal chord Built by confidence and warmed with your self-esteem Lit with the light you see when you look at yourself in the mirror. But fingertips dipped in poison, drunk from power, clenched tight like a wrecking ball eclipsed the beauty that you grew from the roots of your childhood, making a mirage of compliments that once reaped the fruits of your self-image. Turning your temple into a body of evidence. Littered with fingerprints from an assailant that broke…

Ode to Jazz

Ode to Jazz: By Anthony Conwright: I remember when I first saw her. A full figured hollow body, Breast warm with sound. She had perfect fifths for fingertips. Sliding between frets, Dancing over keys, Making knuckles curl and bow in her presence. I wanted to know her, dance with her, and become telekinetic with her hips. Sit and write love letters to the world with her. Swallow her sweetness and let her permeate and cultivate inside of me until my fingertips and footsteps are musical notes and I can walk to her beat. I saw her, Standing next to the…

In my partner’s absence

In my partner’s absence  By: Anthony Conwright There are times in every couple, when time apart is necessary. But the first night is always the worse and for the first time I got so bored I tried to clean and the vacuum chocked when it ran over the echoes of your footsteps. It took me approximately 11 hours before I missed you enough to start having conversations with our cat. Being myself by myself without you feels 49% as good since I don’t have my better half to make me whole. Taking a nap seemed futile because I was only reminded…

To the Woman that is about to jump off the ledge

Click here to hear the audio version.  In order to listen, you will have to download it.  WordPress does not let me insert .mp3 files. To the woman that is about to jump off of the ledge By Anthony Conwright: Somewhere in the world there is a woman suffering from an unstable heart, being visited by the ghost of abusive relationships past  standing on the edge of a skyscraper built on the foundation of her memories scared from a broken childhood. I know I’m too late, and I know you can’t hear me, so first and foremost know that I…