everywhere on the bagel, poppies
in the out of focus fields, poppies
the feeds scroll full of puppies
the home, poppies
what can you say about fireworks
has already exploded
in mouth in blood
we buds. we bud.
grandpa was a farmer
he tended to his poppies
white and wild wind
the wind. white and wild
(originally published in As It Ought To Be Magazine, Spring 2023 – nominated for a Pushcart Prize)
I am too scared to snort
so I lick powder off the blade–
it numbs my mouth. I want to
trust you when you say
there will come no harm
my way but I’d rather ingest
rust. My lungs already cold
in gentle snowfall. And
I worry about the heart.
Why does it feel like
impending illness
when all I want
with you is to snort-
laugh through the night?
(originally published in Good Works Review, Winter 2020)
I.
tonight it is free to clink
glasses with luxury
at the steakhouse downtown
my first
Manhattan
since Day One
I have been
red meat squeezed
of all its blood a puddle
at your recommendation
on our plates a weight
to our long
day
but hey
a hundred bucks?
you produced The Hunger
Games
& film’s
a hungry hundred days
believing
the dream is not a struggle
II.
trout on dry
land among
the cattle
wriggling
out the net we lose ourselves
in work
yet
gorge
on appetizers
bacon-wrapped around
each other
the shrimp
is not taboo
nor endless
with buttery bread
I can’t end
this twelve-hour
shift
III.
I long to spend
free time free
but you close
your eyes when
you talk to me
like you can’t
bear to sit
at the same table
in the down-
trodden way
I say hey
this could be
my favorite
restaurant
over and over
to no one
(originally published in bluepepper, Spring 2023)