Blizzard

wind like a taiko
along the crown of palm
I shiver with the window

(originally published in Vine Leaves Literary Journal, Issue #14)

Bedbug

(originally published in Torrid Literature Journal – Volume XIV, April 2015)

On bridges I wait for the crash;
below, for the crumble.

With slick-ice roads in the
dead of winter
by the open canal,
in my mind I watch my car slide
off the road, into water.

Inconsequential
even if I knew how to swim.
She taught me– or tried to, at least.
She told me to find
my “inner mermaid”–
like a man.

And to fill my lungs like balloons
with meaningless, throwaway air–
which I did, to a fault.

(originally published in The Literary Commune – Issue #4, April 2015)

the not-even-mine salt-and-pepper pup
domesticates me

the longer i hang
the more chameleon my intentions

the smell of sweat from rain-pawed feet

i wave yesterday’s socks
like american flags

i say, speak english –
even though i do not understand

(originally published in White Stag – Volume II, Issue I)