SAINT CATHERINE OF ALEXANDRIA 1. A broken wheel spun around haphazardly before falling over and warbling to a stop. Stillness. If you’re not around to tell the story someone else tells it. And another retells. I stumbled on a tiny chapel in a vacant ruined old house. Catherine was in there along with her wheel. The walls tiled, milky squares, her story hand painted. Language of blue. If it were true my blood was milk. If it were true the wheel broke from the force of the strength inside me. 2. Crumbled bits of ceramic have been mixed with the dirt. Many crisscrossing roads, two ruts, grass in between. Landscape the same for miles. Broken tiles from a demolition firm up the sandy soil. STEPHANIE If you say goodbye to a house the house waves back. But she didn’t get the chance. She was away when her folks got kicked out way back when. Nostalgia is a 12-year-old thing 7 was forever ago. Sure, you can take a look, come in. Yep, we got rid of the old wooden gate. She remembered the laundry chute to the basement. She’d wanted to drop a kitten down to watch it land on a puff of towels. The whole litter escaped through a hole in the screen door. She pointed out the window her stepdad sent an ashtray crashing through. Helluva noise, I bet. Scared you? 8 years later Stephanie happened to rent the house across the street. It was her dream to join the Coast Guard. Took a test, had an interview. But they didn’t like her tattoos. She cried about it. Before long, she moved out. This time her own choice. I don’t know if the house waved goodbye. She probably doesn’t care about that kind of thing anymore.
