Mid-week while meeting with my last client for the evening, I found myself repeating the same sentiment I had shared with two different clients earlier that day; a comment meant to help normalize the inevitable hurt that comes with intimate relationships. I tell them that all couples experience moments of feeling wounded and hurt, evenContinue reading “There Will Be Blood”
Author Archives: Rachel Margaret
You Can’t Milk a Fish
Did you know recent studies have found that single adult women are the happiest subgroup of humans today, while single adult men are reportedly the loneliest (unhealthiest) and most unhappy subgroup? I have shared these statistics with a handful of people in the past few weeks to stir up conversations and get a sense ofContinue reading “You Can’t Milk a Fish”
Compatibility: The Myth and Scapegoat
It was a late autumn afternoon and I had just wrapped up my final session for the day. I lit two candles while pulling bags of loose-leaf teas across the counter before my afternoon guest arrived. I had been staying at a family friend’s house in Chagrin Falls for a few weeks while they traveledContinue reading “Compatibility: The Myth and Scapegoat”
Panoramic Panic
There are twelve steps for you to take. Twelve. My exact age that night baby panic pushed curse words from momma’s mouth.And from her hand, a coiled cord uncurled toward the telephone. It rubbed against the kitchen doorway, conducting a symphony of emotional landscape: a Panoramic Panic. Twelve. The number of miles you rodeblacked out from alcoholContinue reading “Panoramic Panic”
White Noise
The quieter I try,The louder sound I make White lace pressed dimplesCreak of old-fashioned lightLike a piano string dragged between fingersCarpeted navy blue brineHe stumbles Through absence of wife and sunlight
LINEN
All of my lifehow have I been withoutyour soft touchon my skinsofter with timeyou knew me betterwith timepores openyou breathedeep in methose folding crinkled smilesunderneath your eyesI wishto pack you upand ship you offto loved onesI wishto pull youover my pillowand stuff youbetween my thighsuntil then I walkthrough parking lotsunder cherry blossoms while you ringalong myContinue reading “LINEN”
Dancing Bees
Winslow Road was where the white house stoodswelled and quiet once until bare toes tap on wooden beamsankle snaps loose splintered feet Where pine crumbs drop across the creek, leaves drape quietly as secrets keep Toward iron hasp, I bend an earbut all I hearis the tickle of bees dancing in my stomach Behind severalContinue reading “Dancing Bees”
How Strange
The young lad bellies down, ink in hand. He writes of pregnancy, a father’s knotting mistakes, and trees bent to make way for man-made things. He writes of pulling on the pocket of a peaked lapel. And muddling wool with tobacco-stained fingertips. He writes of the pain in growing— still longing for a cold hardContinue reading “How Strange”
Let Me Take You to The Market
It is a bright Saturday morning, the morning before Easter Sunday. The sun leans forward, casting a spell over treetops outside my window. Tulip bulbs break out of topsoil in two straight lines, while daffodils flirt with the sky. Varying yellow shades brightly dance in the wind, even brighter against green-growing spring grass. Rows ofContinue reading “Let Me Take You to The Market”
WAKE
WAKERachel M. Croce Bernard is not the name of a man, but a place where winter eyes cast shore to shore and land kissed upon seagrass-laden rocky salt-marshand feast upon simplicity where loneliness mates with dreary coastline I wed myself to mean unsailed sailor bent upon cracked compassarrows dance between glass and brass loose bootstraps lift weighty limbsin searchto hideContinue reading “WAKE”
The Word Mill 