Author Archives: Devon Riley

Yesterday I scrubbed away the thick black line of goo (sneaky, deep-crack goo) that was making the dishwasher (and the inside of the wine glasses which should smell purely like waiting-for-wine and the steam that should smell foggy-clean when it rises into your face as you open the door) smell like old fish. As IContinue reading “March 30th”

December 24, 2019 Deanie, we are 7 years this day from the day you came out of me, there on the living room floor under the tree where you are sleeping now.  The kittens are curled around your legs. Hazel in my bed upstairs. The presents on the table – including a card you madeContinue reading “Birthday letter, 7”

Wevan is dead. When we got it (they? her?), Clara’s language was such that she called it We-vaan. The name stuck. The last place I drove in Wevan was the farmer’s market on Saturday with H and my mom. A good last trip, though we had no indications of trouble. The next day the batteryContinue reading “Eulogy”

Hi beauty. Woke at 4 yesterday bc my alarm was still set for the airport. Didn’t realize til 5. Worked 7 – 6, including traffic. Not as bad as I expected, honestly. I look around the room at the career teachers who are the leads for Work Samples for their buildings and are about toContinue reading “An email from last September”

As this new school year begins I am reminded again and again of the relevance of my internal experiences to how I am supporting and honoring the experiences of those around me. I notice tremors of insufficiency and recognize the spirit of scarcity behind these momentary possessions. Who benefits from my sense of scarcity? Or,Continue reading “September 4”

A dream At school, M stabs? Or shoots? Madison in the chest. It is like a modernist Shakespeare play – no weapon, no blood. But the intention, all the emotion, the charge of an essential relationship flipped over … to reveal a sudden moment’s impulse that cannot be reversed. It’s all very much school –Continue reading “June 26”

I  took  a bottle of  water Found open and undrank In a familiar workspace Call it my classroom Everyone does I  Carried it outside, where a  Dogwood blooms in a cement sea The leaves were already radiant  With rain I  emptied the  water Over the tremulous branches A miracle!  Touched a leaf I  love you!Continue reading “June 20”

Waking from dreams in the garage surrounded by my intimate family to crow calls and those red poppy explosions again. In the dream, I was asking people – a child being forcibly dressed for her dance recital, a man doing grunt work for an extraction company in a destroyed field – “If women ran theContinue reading “June 13”

The careful student says what she knows and not more than that. She listens for what she seeks to understand My name is Devon Frances Riley. I identify as a woman; a white, cis, queer mother. Pronouns: she, her. They is fine, too. I have a student who’s been using ‘they’ all year for me,Continue reading “May 29”