Clik here to view.
Self-Reproach
She lived in a junk ocean swimming in the dark waters of nostalgia She gave birth to four babies two in the spring two in the summer She tied all four of them to Her gills they were heavy they pulled...
View ArticleClik here to view.
The Tolley House At Green Gate
I share a broom with Virginia and Miriam, I have not had the pleasure of either of the two Green Gate maids, but I know that their knees squeak louder than mine and that elbow oil lubricates their...
View ArticleClik here to view.
Sclerotic Dolls
Back to my dolls. Back to familiar, sclerotic faces. Mother gave me one to paint. I chose the sea for her eyes and cuspidated obsidian for her mouth. She was a fill-in. Mother howled in on muscle...
View ArticleClik here to view.
In The Desert
June, avalanche came with hammers, pounding cradle into coffin for me, smashing off these fingers that wanted. (St. Louis opens boiling arms while I drag these empty things.) I searched through...
View ArticleClik here to view.
She Snaps Like A
She snaps like a twig from a dead oak tree She snaps her fingers, one, two, THREE!!!!!! Standstill! Who will draw first Three sisters, count them. One. Two. Three. Huddled in her meat cleaver, she...
View ArticleClik here to view.
Frozen Pond
I have no room of my own. My carpet was eaten by a vacuum with cold, blue eyes. It was January when kitchen plates shattered. My diamond party, shattered. My calm-moon baby, shattered. I took her down...
View ArticleClik here to view.
Texas LongHorn
Up north, near borders and manure, a woman lives with a Texas LongHorn. She grows red potatoes and asparagus in spring water. She nudged her children with long pitchforks, for all the years that she...
View ArticleClik here to view.
Incarnation
She would rather I be an incarnation, a flower on a grave. She made my slumber rough with sand until I swept it out of my bed. When I was small, I brought all the worms and the flies and the bees out...
View ArticleClik here to view.
She Would Know
I’m hungry. My stomache tugs at an old fetus, belly up, a stutter in a hot month. I think, I would paint her like a spring egg, or sculpt her like a chess game where she could be queen and cut off the...
View ArticleClik here to view.
Morning Greets Me
Each morning greets me differently; she kisses my cheek for love, or spits down my throat for some other reason. I used to hate her obnoxious light. When I was a child I threw sticks at her and swore I...
View Article