Category: Poetry

You begin to grow drowsy, but the once velvet sleep you took for granted no longer flowers into peaceful dreams.

Rusted through, the stoveheart of this house. The television glows in cancer blue, and floorboards gently stain the kitchen red.

Look at us now with our bludgeoned hands held like empty weapons to the stars.

Finished ironing, I emptied extra water onto cement, reluctant to climb stairs back into claustrophobic caregiving.

Every time it rains, the foxes pull apart                with their claws a rainbow and commence a procession through it, walking on               all fours to the town square for a wedding.

If one / could slough pain, let wind come.

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.