2010s

Unnamed

Write about important things things that move me things that crush me Write about hurricanes and avalanches the earthquakes of my soul It’s the grit beneath my fingernails it’s the cartilage in my vertebrae I am driven to expose it to pull it out hold it up to the light I am only the messenger […]

Kai Arrives at the Moon Recording

A poem I wrote for my niece to welcome her into womanhood.

Why I Can’t Kill Daddy Longlegs Hiding in My Shower Curtain

Because I know he is home-seeking and hungry. Because I see the fragility of eight legs holding tight to porcelain. Because I once needed to be scooped up from drowning showers to sunlit window panes.Because when I was nine, I had to break into our motel room on a Friday night after church.Because my mom […]

Lament for the Atlantic

Seas of us stretch like solar systems. On all sides she threads charcoal death. Space between stars is space between islands circled in gray. Here, even air sinks heavy into broken-hearted eyes. I swim from the island of highways and high-rises to the island of roadless hills. Neighbored only by sea nymphs and forever sky. […]

Murrieta

When you rise early from your wide bed pull on your long pants, brush your porcelain teeth, do you also decide to fill your mouth with pebbles stuff them into your cheeks for stoning small children? When you gather the keys to your reliable car, drink your coffee, eat your toast and eggs, do you […]

Scent Stained

You are the mistake I want to make I will wrap myself in your red flags and let you peel them off one silk layer at a time You are the regret I want to have I’ll bind you in my caution tape lay on a bed of warning signs cold metal against warm skin […]

The Lost Vowels

They changed the spelling of my name— too many vowels—when they crossed the ocean. Maybe that’s when France was severed from me, my father’s name simplified to the basic sounds. It carried nothing of its history, no region or dialect, just letters on a page that claimed I was his daughter. Distant traces of Parisian […]

How I Stopped Naming Lost Things

for my birthday This is where I don’t know what’s next this is where I get lost in the desert forty years of circle wandering This is where I try to fill the cracks this is where I see how much I can fit how many pages I can write how many nights of alcohol […]

Love Letter No.1: To My Pit-Bull Self

I love the teeth of your love how you pit-bull deep into the flesh of loving How you make shrines in the empty spaces, abandoned apartments Shrines to former residents of borrowed books and toiletries envelopes full of photographs and letters in pen How you never fill the same space with new but keep building […]

Daylight

Your arm hit the blinds they swung like a pendulum brightlight brightlight piercing my eyes you held up your hand to stop the sun to shade my face it felt just like love so I sunk into you in the silence First published in First Literary Review East and included in All the Tiny Anchors.