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...
Too brief again, this August light
For Austen Clyde Prescott, June 20, 2005-August 3, 2023
But the uncommon heat will not break.Rain sizzles the roof tiles...
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...
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...
