Sleep

eyes close, a portal opens
to rain, silent homes / shields for
the wet and yearning. . . escape, enter, in
speckled ceiling light, visions of rice
and effervescent soaking / murk
in nonchalance, the 21st century–
has it ever been different?

(originally published in Poetry Super Highway, Fall 2024)

Reruns

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)

Please Stop with These Old Photos

it’s too much pain to view them in my brain
the brain hungry the eyes always feed it

processes everything as sadness I eat the cosmos
with sight yet fixate on what I have

lost everything a miracle of blood and dust
around me and in the fog I loop December

nights with the dull orange parking lot lights
we walked under to get home and in my hand

there are snapshots of us holding hands
everywhere in the known universe!


(originally published in New Pop Lit, Summer 2020)