Pleased to have my poem, “Cliffsides” published in First Literary Review-East. Please visit & support this awesome journal! Cliffside We were foolish and giddy in our expectation.I knew nothing of kites, but you’d wanted one, so I bought one.A few weeks later, we drove up the mountain into the wind,our unsuitable car creaking resentfully. Halfway,Continue reading “Poem published: “Cliffsides””
Ocean Breaks After draining the last of the burned coffee I replace the lid and push the cup into the sand, pull my feet back to sit on my haunches wrap my arms around my knees as if I were five again, lost among the ladies’ coats in Macy’s, waiting to be found, not hidingContinue reading “Poem: Ocean Breaks”
The Next Necropolis The crowds will come, some in ceremony, waltzing through the sleet. Weary of legacy, they register their ambivalence. Candles sputter in rainfall; cadence of light misfires. Once the wounds are open they can only be stitched up to heal: the scar becomes memory’s tabernacle. Tonight, you’ll earn your own. _____________________________________________________________________ firstContinue reading “Poem: The Next Necropolis”
Ways and Plans He spoke to his mother’s corpse through his sister’s cell-phone. She sat with the body, ten minutes too late to watch the death. He leaned on the bathroom sink in the back of the stockroom in the dark. She set the phone on speaker. He mewled apologies through the air, noise becameContinue reading “Poem: Ways and Plans”
After Removing Your Life Support Yesterday, a Target bagswirled among the leavesacross the hospitalparking lot. Today, it hangson a curb, crushedby overnight rain. First published in Boston Literary Review
Escape Joy works at the scabs beneath the cast on her right arm and she watches her family enjoy each other through lowered eyes, studies her grandmother, dressed in ill-fitting, musty clothing, staring into night, picking picking picking at imaginary threads on the wheelchair armrest. Her grandfather stands nearby, talking with her mother and father,Continue reading “Poem: Escape”
An undershirt on a reaped corn stalk;a wet tie stained with smoke;water puddling in road scars;the field, a former homestead;the smell of burnt oil and skin fuse in the airand soil, rising even after the lavender blooms. First published in Right Hand Pointing.