Month: September 2024
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Maru Mori
Maru Mori*To rise from bed on legs still working,to feed the cats before making coffee,and open the door to the…
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A Made Thing
Memory, like a poem, is a made thing.A mixtape of summers past. BlurredPolaroids pinned to a corkboard.Re-captioned in different ink.My…
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Communion
In the stone cathedral, I am offered salvation—a paper-thin promise skims my sinner’s tongue. A tiny bud—blue and wanting.I cross…
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Reruns of Red River
I remember what my grandmother has long forgotten. She was an integral part of my childhood, yet she doesn’t recognize…
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Recitation
Mortal and unbaptized in open soilwedded with leathered creosote, cactus wrens,an abandoned microwave, grotty folding chairs,and a wooden headboard half-buried…
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Kids Will Be Skeletons
By 6 pm, the Ramirez boys had already secured a record candy haul—much better than last year. And they had…
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The Corduroy Effigy
One of my very first memories was of the back of our family’s couch, a worn corduroy with dull green…
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Novembering
As a girl growing up on a farm in Edson, Michigan, I knew about sex from an early age. With breeding…
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Empty Streets
We walk down the streetwith joined hands, twined hearts,staring at the darknessengulfing the closed shutters,shoppers trooping out of shops,mothers shouting…