The Other Side
1.
I cradle it in the palm of my hand.An eggshell, still warm.
Something
hatched here—its scent
clings to my dreamskin.
I can almost feel its
weight, this...
Venus
My daughter-never-born is throwing snow.
She’s dropping crystals
from clouds of sulfuric acid.
They glisten like knives, swirl
in the solar winds. Each flake hovers
over the ground before...
