The proper recourse now

A prose poem.

It’s impossible not to feel a bit self-conscious when the counselor you’re paying good money for yawns as you tell your story. He asked the question. You obliged by answering. This was the agreed upon transaction. This is the day. This is the hour. You have full intention of contributing to your health insurance deductible at session’s end. Maybe this isn’t the proper recourse anymore. It once was. That time has come and gone. The proper recourse now is with the birds. The birds have the answer. They speak into the aura. They see colors we don’t even know exist. And they are in harmony with the trees who speak to one another in the other world through a web of interconnected fungi. A primordial internet of sorts. The world below the surface where idle chatter doesn’t penetrate the soil.

Photo by Danielle MacInnes on Unsplash

By Jeffrey Pillow

Jeffrey Pillow is an American short story writer, memoirist, and poet. He is the author of The Lady Next Door. His writing has been published in Urge Magazine, The Nervous Breakdown, 16 Blocks, USA Today, Sports Illustrated,, New York Times, Washington Post, and Richmond Times-Dispatch.

He grew up in the small town of Phenix, Virginia, population: 200, and now lives in Charlottesville with his wife, two kids, and a dog named Mozzarella Cheese. He is a graduate of the University of Virginia where he was a Rainey Scholar. This is his blog.

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