Not Monet’s Giverny
In our snow globe of good-byes we leavecities burning, arguments still on fire.
We do not touch but force ourselves
into pockets and gloves.Winter...
Anthropomorphizing the Orchid
Lowering my nose to the waxy petals, I’m kissing you goodnight
in the hospital again. Your lips smelled faintly of sour milk,
those protein...
Chasing
The man looks uptown, spies the alphabet
ducking into a cab, watches as it goes north
toward the river, then starts to follow.
He feels in his...
Secret Lives of Trees
January afternoon, the wind puts its nose on its paws,
sun shining gamely through a sky the blue
of purest gold—seven geese nosing...
Nocturne with Poor Decisions
That time, say, you shoved me against the wall
and we pretended we liked things rough.
We don’t have to live in separate...
On Not Being an Axeman
Swing the apple blade,
maul the ash. A cutting
of late honeysuckle
in a penny vase. I have romanced
hawks and fieldstone
and the notion...
You Would Become
Some nights
you lie next
to him as he
sleeps, shadowy
light striping
his face, and think
you would do anything
to enter him.
You would become
music, some orchestral
or unsteady...
Hippotherapy
I cannot remember a time when
you weren’t strange, dressed up in your white tights
and turtleneck, become the white mare,
barefoot galloping the yard on your
hands...
