| Photo By Kimberly Ruth |
My husband can’t get in; I can’t explain. I rest my left foot on his right shin bony as a picture frame, a coffee table. This is what I’m used to: being unknown. Sometimes, we ride together, wordless; he drives, our dogs linger--- lab in the backseat bearded collie on my lap. I watch out the window trees whir past as though they’re on wheels horses gallop backwards Edison’s invention rewound to be played again--- that arresting. What my husband and I don’t say or cannot is not a stranger between us, rather a being we inhabit together, a body that can be a bed or a road ample as a page written on or blank as if my back to him were a canvas. |
Reading In Bed Nancy Devine |
| The Honey Land Review Spring 2009 Volume 1, Issue 2 |
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NANCY DEVINE teaches high school English in Grand Forks,
North Dakota, where she lives with her husband Chuck and their
two dogs. She co-directs the Red River Valley Writing Project, a
local site of the National Writing Project. Her poems, essays and
short fiction have appeared in online and print journals. In 2007
she was twice nominated for a Pushcart Prize.
North Dakota, where she lives with her husband Chuck and their
two dogs. She co-directs the Red River Valley Writing Project, a
local site of the National Writing Project. Her poems, essays and
short fiction have appeared in online and print journals. In 2007
she was twice nominated for a Pushcart Prize.
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