Mom flipped through the magazines like the pages needed to be slapped.
AIMEE BENDERMom flipped through the magazines like the pages needed to be slapped.
AIMEE BENDERI am the drying meadow; you the unspoken apology; he is the fluctuating distance between mother and son.
AIMEE BENDERAs soon as you laugh from nerves or make a joke or say something just to say something or get all involved with the bushes, then you blow open a window in your house of desire and it can’t heat up as well. Cold draft comes in.
AIMEE BENDERMy lover is experiencing reverse evolution.
AIMEE BENDERIt’s such a fraught and exciting and kind of horrible time.
AIMEE BENDERMy eyelids are my own private cave, he murmured. That I can go to anytime I want.
AIMEE BENDERTo see someone you love, in a bad setting, is one of the great barometers of gratitude.
AIMEE BENDERYou’re the perfect girl’, he said, rubbing his chin. ‘You expect nothing.
AIMEE BENDERIt seems the best work I do is when I am really allowing the unconscious to rule the page and then later I can go back and hack around and make sense of things.
AIMEE BENDERThere’s a gift in your lap and it’s beautifully wrapped and it’s not your birthday.
AIMEE BENDERBefore she knew it was candles, did she think she’d done it herself? With the amazing turns of her hips.
AIMEE BENDERIt was like we were exchanging codes, on how to be a father and a daughter, like we’d read about it in a manual, translated from another language, and were doing our best with what we could understand.
AIMEE BENDERWe’re all getting too smart. Our brains are just getting bigger and bigger, and the world dries up and dies when there’s too much thought and not enough heart.
AIMEE BENDERBut what I kept wondering about is this: that first second when she felt her skirt burning, what did she think?
AIMEE BENDERThe writing I tend to think of as ‘good’ is good because it’s mysterious.
AIMEE BENDERSometimes, she said, mostly to herself, I feel I do not know my children…
AIMEE BENDER