This Dimming Light Between Us

The days, you keep tying them to hooks on the ceiling. Clay ornaments on strings knocking together like wind chimes in a summer storm or the eerie jingle of the Good Humor truck driving by. Somehow both immediate and fleeting. They make the most delicate clamor The noise sends me out of the house late at …

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Calamine

I still feel that humid night on me. Back then our apartment perched above the sidewalk like a vulture; my head perched above my heart like a parrot. Just before you wedged that stupid laundry basket you use as a suitcase out the back door, you told me to stop messing with the frays of things, and I spent I don't …

errant army

the bright soldiers unarm me brash asters charm me hardly stable, full of will their starry lies sigh sorry frilly gifts mar me like Bacardi; it’s all thrill sharpened edges may harm me your errant army disarms me, alarms me still

Scrimshaw

I wanted to write you a poem about horseshoe crabs, how they are born on beaches, how they spend their lives sheltered, underwater, and only reemerge when they're old. They trudge across their grave, their chestnut lives etching wales into every grain of sand. Every beach is their archive, but I forget about your summer house—in Delaware of all places. …

Yellow

It starts bright as lemons fresh cream churned to butter love's weight in our hands     promising golden We stitch our lives slowly and dye the joined fabrics our saffron     turmeric     mustard future Fluid and so fragile we pack our love away like a yolk in its shell     waiting to break The whites of your …

“No.”

No plumed horses charged in my revolt, no chariots trailed nor thunderbolts loosed, no baritones cawed for mercy before the amoral axes cleaved them apart. The operatic crows in their robes—those black guards— will find no antecedents' bones to pick. Like me, they must forget anything but tundra existed on this plain, and fly off with nothing, hewing their complaints elsewhere. No, …