Observationsby Anna Fonte Neat trick: they say if you want to fall in love look into someone's eyestwo whole minutes is all it takessomething about seeing and being seensomething about how love gets in or out Outside or in the cat paces yowling for an open door Ask myself: in love, are you the lover or the loved…

Hard Evidenceby Anna Fonte In the moment of my father's death  I sat on my sofa 900 miles awaywaiting to hear something, feel somethingmy earliest memory came to me standing in my crib, wailing, willing the door to open, my own hand tearing the hair from my headbut what a balm it was to have something 

Wild by Anna Fonte I came upon a gang of wild horses gathered around a shining plate of rainpooled on the side of the roadafter a sudden spring stormthere must have been twenty of themstudding that puddle, wilddark bodies carved in a field of green and there lolling musculardappled skin quivering skinnydipperone horse, maybe the boss 

In my house, there are two exterior doors, front and back. That should suffice, but you never know. Upstairs, there’s a door that leads out onto the roof. The roof is steep but if I could make it to the edge, I could shimmy down the fig tree. The kitchen has two windows that open but only one big enough to crawl through.

At first I expected an answer. No doubt someone would hear me knocking. The door will open any moment now because that’s how it works.Knock and the door opens; on this we can all depend. I knock until the sound travels up through my arm to my chest yes, like a heartbeat, like life itself. Soon I become interested in the knocking, not as a means to an end but a thing in itself.