I learned the word broken in the middle of the night. Your back was against my chest, naked, your glasses discarded (groped for in the morning,) your ear to the bed. You were all good hearing, you heard it
Category: Poetry
Before I left, he wrapped his arms around me like time didn’t exist. It was just us in a blur of young love, lost in each other’s pastel embrace. His warmth sunk into my bones and I couldn’t say
I share my room with a colony of memories, they live inside my blankets and pillows, and come fluttering out at night when I dream. They flit here and there across my bedroom scratching on the remnants of my
i still remember the embarrassment i feltas i walked back to apartment numberthree zero seven, from my manic sprint around the block,tobacco stuck between my teeth and gums,legs buckled inwards and shaking violently; they saw my bloodshot eyes anda
i built a dam of stoneto patch a leak in my brain,keeping hasty yearningsto myself, but cracks beganforming as my vision blurred,he asked if i was okay,i said yes, why the hell did i say yes? i shoveled sand into
On these morningsbed sheets reach the corners of my earssighing and reaching for more blankets, I realizecoolness has touched the clouds as it has me the pavement matches the sky bestwhen grey shingles and white colonialsdim their tones for
The autumn night my sister was releasedfrom Bellevue, dressed in a rough shroudof brown burlap,my mother told me to take her upstairsand bathe her.I filled the old tub with hot water,gathered a bar of Ivory soap andthe green bottle
We were told to take anything we wantedfrom the chattel left behind by a disappearedfamily who had rented my aunt’s farmhouse. They left in a hurry, unable to pay the month’s due,unwilling to beg my hard-nosed aunt for more
The Church teachesits recalcitrant flockthat Ordinary Time spacessingly butto testify to the eternity of forty years or forty days Lent is spentin accumulated abstinence: a refracted desert
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