in a snowstorm
next to you
the mistake
she made
makes from
your grasp
again
the end
the plane
I leave
the end
on my mind
next time
I see
a bed:
a beer
a life
a lay
(originally published in S/WORD – Issue #5)
in a snowstorm
next to you
the mistake
she made
makes from
your grasp
again
the end
the plane
I leave
the end
on my mind
next time
I see
a bed:
a beer
a life
a lay
(originally published in S/WORD – Issue #5)
passed like a wavering wristwatch.
teeth quietly chattered.
the spider-leg-frizzy occiput.
raw morning shampoo. like an apple.
or butterflies. blunt sides of pins.
the polyester blanket soaked
from evening vinegar.
collected like dust.
(originally published in Cosmonauts Avenue – Spring 2015)
wind like a taiko
along the crown of palm
I shiver with the window
(originally published in Vine Leaves Literary Journal, Issue #14)