in the game you say it is time
to stop being obnoxious it is
morning in the year of Our
Tiger twenty twenty-two
feels like a glitch to write
over and over but living
like this with imposed
time limits before ice
scrapes off my vehicle
I lose sight of the sun
the windshield white
(originally published in Rundelania, Fall 2024)
freeze
January
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)