Raised Beds
The summer of virus and loneliness,
I’d walk around the raised bed
crammed with basil, dill, and cilantro,
at least three times,
a gesture that felt almost...
Our Dead Pancreases
Within my father and me, they are
bellwethers of the body’s ruin.
Pancreases turned inside out–
empty pockets
on the day a bill comes due.
Or maybe
my...
Again
I stand in a dying field watching
a glitter fall of bird wings
Every change of season I find myself
where flowers wilted. It’s growing old
visits, revisits,...
The starlings are back in coal-smudged November
I watch them murmurate, peck branches, shingles off
a roof. They bulge and brigade against the ground.
We fought again....
Among Remains
The dog who mines springmud for squirrel shards
this morning just stares,in awe or empathy,
a deer skeleton sproutingfrom rain-washed gravel,
scrabble of ribs and spine,scapula...
Chez Pierre et Geneviève Pâtisserie
Driving past Chez Pierre et Geneviève Pâtisserie,
the sign alone triggers a craving for croissants—
flaky, caramel‑colored shell, its center
deepened to amber....
