The Newborn
Barely 5 lbs 8 oz,
she sleeps before me
and snores through
her half-open mouth.
She clenches her
tiny palms.
Tight chest, fisted heart;
tight tight—
sweat trickles down
her cotton onesie.
She...
Anniversary with Busted Taillight
There remain the Pleiades, dark filling stations
deer crossing signs, waspish hum of planes departing Teterboro.
She belongs to the permafrost when we...
