Pulling air into a tight vortex
spins into a poem, readymade. I knew nothing of
how poems came to be, so willed them. Like
waterspouts, they twirled...
With Wind
The curtain breathes
when I give birth
to death, its push
from open windows:
out. They mark
my door with a leaf
to say, There is
no breath inside
this...
And it’s only June
Dusk, in Clarkdale, Arizona, an old
copper mining town now hip with
art galleries and wineries. At our
Airbnb, we lie naked, on top...
Deadheading
You argue the blooms still
alive when we both see
brittle ghosts hovering
over twisted roots,
translucent petals pink
as the time wine
stained our lips, bed
an excuse to day
dream...
After Two Years, the Midwife Explains
pre{eclampsia—a condition comparable
to milk fever
in cows and dogs}
which explains
how my blood soared in the days after
as drops of milk rivered
how...
Entertainer of the Year
Before the lilac trees were cut down,
there were mornings the purplish
stems wrapped in tin foil could bring
a person happiness. Schoolchildren
made the...
Galaxies
An American sentence acrostic golden shovel, after the Indigo Girls
Grooving around our small town on the last night before college, we wondered, Whatabout the...
The Signs Were Clear
at the botanical garden where hot irises pulsed with hormones, where my daughter asked, won’t you take me down to fuchsia town?...
