On Monday night in the real world / Illegitimate cigarette smoke / Curls into commas /
The stars are shaped / Like a question mark.
Read More
This home has been ours for ever, our parents’ generation and the ten before that too. This home
has been loved
Read More
I think that tree used to be taller,
Pine spindles extended and reaching, reaching
Toward the terrifying expanse of eternity above.
Read More
Beneath my head, your chest expands and falls,
It pulls me in and pushes me out—my tide,
So steady; brutal; vast;
Read More
The air is thick with something unnamed,
a hush, a breath, a weight unclaimed.
