Category: Poetry

Glory the day my father takes me to the river to watch the stadium implode into a ghost of dust.

We were always told that Nana and Grandpa Joe eloped / when she was only 17, though she’d been promised / to Frank Capra’s brother.

I love you where yellow bends.

Instead of wallowing // in animal glory like all the world’s a watering hole, / the subject has instead learned to feel alone 

too many, we could not eat them / skins fragile then, fermentation exquisite

While the boys / swing and jump, she skips stones, / noticing the brief buoyancy / before each is sucked back into the river.

I am the maid by the window watching you / speak it out, tongue to tongue, black water / wetting the carpet, the cells, the Klimt, me

when I learned dogs smell in stereo / I closed my eyes and imagined how