Anxious being
lost. Pockets
a pit. I am
unable to unlock
the city’s doors,
its construction-heavy
streets, under girders.
I stare past bluegray
grids to the stars. I know
nothing of architecture
but windows and doors–
what is clear enough
to see through.
My stack of days
is a tall building
leading to where
I have yet to go.
(originally published in Corvus Review, Summer 2023)
I sit by the fan
this May afternoon
alive forever
in the green
of our home-
made salad
(spinach, chickpea,
yellow pepper, tahini),
sore and sweaty
from carrying air
conditioners up
steep hallway stairs.
Using the heat-
gun and pliers
I straighten
my brain’s
antenna.
Our argument
becomes static
on a tube TV
in someone
old’s living
room.
(originally published in San Antonio Review, Winter 2023)
Because Tony once said he knew
Columbus and Los Angeles the way I do–
I have not yet developed a poetry of
place for Pittsburgh. Three years in and
still the surprise hills, the way I always
feel– still– an outsider wending my way
through confusing streets. I’ve worked with
Kailee’s dad longer than I lived with Paige
and still we haven’t had a deep conversation.
Everywhere I go there remains a sense of some
thing deep that needs explored. The way
I walked Los Angeles streets at night–
the endless sprawl– must be the same,
but Pittsburgh’s smaller, the graffiti
more familiar, how it’s all a sketch of home.
(originally published in Vilas Avenue, Winter 2023)
Show a baby grass
for the first time
yes
there will be more of that
(originally published in SAND, Spring 2023)