where the writers are

Christine Hamm's Blog

RSSSyndicate content
Apr.06.2011
Bride of the Gorillafor Barbara Payton She was a bad blond: she understood the couch, its tender springs, the secrets beneath its cushions, what the padded armrests felt like pushing back her breasts.  What applying for a position meant.  In this scene, watch for the glowing cardboard meteor in the...
Continue Reading »
Mar.14.2011
Changeling In five languages, I am trying to learn the word for orphan.  It is easier than telling the truth.   I miss you, Mother, although you were alcoholic and asthmatic and you cheated on everyone you touched.  Although you never wanted me, and you would rather sing songs to your seals and...
Continue Reading » 2 comments
Feb.27.2011
July, Then Before Your dark straight hair like some kind of expensive silk skin I wanted to stick my fist through. That Neil Diamond song we practiced all year in the 8th grade out on the front lawn. The album playing in your bedroom. Singing it to each other in the bathroom stalls. How you...
Continue Reading » 2 comments
Feb.21.2011
As if the moon were still ripe for decontamination In the sun, he lies on his back and rips the hole larger with his thumb. In the shadows later, he drinks half a warm diet coke. In the mirror, I check my teeth, to see if they're still broken. In the light cast by the bug-zapper, he plays his tapes...
Continue Reading »
Feb.14.2011
My Western, II The Outlaw Josey Wales. Grace, Idaho. Red-tailed hawks.  A black eye on a girl hiding behind the corral.  A Lady Takes a Chance. Trip-wires for horses.  War paint, eye shadow.  A Fistful of  Dollars.  Cow-boy hats reeking of smoke and spoiled pork. Mule deer.  Mud Lake, Idaho. ...
Continue Reading »
Jan.28.2011
Pet Cow I only see her in summer; in the winter, some man comes, but not often.  Short, sharp fur, scar near her shoulder in the shape of California. Black and white and black. Does not hesitate to shit on me when I get near her tail. Eyes like limpid balls of goo or something I could stick my...
Continue Reading »
Jan.21.2011
Fawn, Calf, Mare I dream I'm the reincarnation of St. Sophia while you pretend to run a cosmetics business from your cellar, and bury the bodies after hours in the park. On a good day, your sweater reeks only of poppies, tree roots and sunburn, and I predict the weather with 85% accuracy. I can't...
Continue Reading »
Jan.16.2011
My Version of Swerving After "Traveling Through the Dark" by Stafford On my street: no street lights, couples always making out in darkened cars, and animals always getting hit. Once we were walking George and we saw a deer lying by the side of the road, an almost dead deer, its hind hooves...
Continue Reading »
Jan.14.2011
My Overdose Not like a river. Not like flying. Not a good taste, anywhere. Not dark. Not like a tunnel, not like a train coming out of that tunnel, with me tied across the tracks, me under the wheels. Not like music, playing softly in the distance. Not like the slang, not like anything...
Continue Reading » 2 comments
Jan.07.2011
The Future In the letterbox up the stairs, she found a letter postmarked from the following week. It was cold and wet along one corner, like it had been sitting in snow. She took it into the kitchen and put it on the table in front of him. I'm still waiting, he said, watching her out of the...
Continue Reading » 3 comments
Dec.24.2010
My Dead Labrador Retriever Visits in the Form of a Hostess Then, around 8 that morning, I saw the big woman in our garden.  The muddy ruts and bootprints between the garage and the house had frozen stiff, but she lay in a red cocktail dress, her shoulders exposed, the thin straps of her dress...
Continue Reading » 2 comments
Dec.13.2010
Insomnia Then I'm on my knees in the street of our summer, my brother staring from his trike, his lips a pinked oh, blood pooling honey-like from my mouth, the fresh, car- washed cars circling like frightened cats --a scar forming in my throat that will never heal. This is all your fault, I am...
Continue Reading »
Nov.21.2010
Hotel #1 The sky a scrub brush, lowering and lowering. My mother with her Ouija Board, my father with his small blond gun. The pool, half-full of leaves and snakes. The bathroom leaking black insects, sighing. My brother walking the hem of the roof: in the off-season, no one to call him down. The...
Continue Reading » 1 comment
Nov.07.2010
How One Cat Holds the Other Tongue dipping into an ear, white paw fixed over the other's neck. Low growling. Whiskers lifting, repointed. Black back paw tap- ping like an impatient tap-dancer at the door. What serves as an orange elbow, crooked and in the air. White fur on red, like a fur...
Continue Reading » 1 comment
Nov.03.2010
The Periodic Table of Car Crashes in the heat, the temporary classrooms ping like empty oil drums everyone's getting their learner's permit this year how to doodle a black stallion using three different pens: movies of people crashing and slides of what happens when people crash this is called "...
Continue Reading » 1 comment