The Number of Completion
After Three Pears by Patty Willis, oil on canvas
The first pear blushes; you’ve discovered himnaked with his companions, their fleshy bodiesinches...
Exile
Exile is a long walk, an intricate tattoo, soonit has grown into your face—Daniel Simko
Your mouth sounds clearestacross the ocean. Language rises
into a cloud...
Uninhabited
That January we ate ramen, broth sharpas vinegar. Sipped the sizzling disappointment
while snow cascaded from the second flooruntil our city grew unrecognizable. By April
love was...
Insomnia
A midnight truck shakesthe clock awake. I remembermy father opening the door
to my head, a lullaby on the pianotying this memory to kindness.These days,...
Fatal Hour
Ponder if you will the seductive side of sorrow,
like dirty cash in envelopes thrown at you by strangers.
We qualified for grief assistance, for...
We Have Gotten So Good At Dying
A sad memento is sad so long
as it’s
the officiant of girlhood—the body its own
disengaged worship. How to chronicle...
