When I look at a pool blue
sky, I see flesh, the dried sweat
in clouds. My thoughts are grotesque
to myself. Incense smoldering.
A trembling abstraction. I know–
in theory– I am not indebted
to you. The space beyond our knot
is eternal. Every night, my brain tells me
nothing may be beyond your control,
but each day I wilt at the irresistible.
(originally published in MONO., Spring 2022)
Stress-eating sour worms
while working from home.
A dumb numbness. Live
a weekend for a little
joy. A stressed syll-
able. A stretched neon
bleeding the pumps
from my heart, my long
and yellow heart, crusted
from swallowing earth’s
bitter notes back. I used
to take outside for granted.
(originally published in The Writing Disorder, Spring 2021)
Wouldn’t call myself wild. Wouldn’t last a day–
before you, another home I thought’d be forever.
Some call my eyes crystal but I couldn’t predict
a future outside the shelter. I was scared yet still
nomadic to a fault– too eager to attach, I now
purr from afar– me, on a pillow on the carpet,
you, sipping coffee on the couch– just to say
I see you, I want to go there, just not yet.
I will never detail my past, its unimaginable
happenings that make me want to spill Cabernet
glasses, scatter shards of red on tile. I’m learning
to be comfortable in my surroundings, to love
and welcome love by others in this space. I leap
atop the cabinets to walk into your world, observe.
And at night I wait for you to lay in bed when,
at last, I can rest on your chest, close my eyes,
and be.
(originally published in The Mark Literary Review, Spring 2020)
I am a clicking sound in the tongue of the restaurant–
how would you like to be served how may I serve you
the bones are getting cold in this chicken breast this cutlet
of space I said I’d do anything for cash and it’s true there is
no limit to greed that’s the whole idea space expands
and my atoms stay quantum and still, relatively.
(originally published in Erothanatos, Spring 2020)
Finn barks at the window & I try to understand why
make noise at the sunshine we are in the clear & inside
of our heads taking dirt showers beside the Pacific
we both are allowed in this home to live our lives
on all fours and from the couch watch the world
go slowly by
(originally published in Agony Opera, Summer 2021)