Last summer, clunks of glass,
grapefruit juice across the veiled
table. We stayed drunk
through sweltering June, to cool
off with Bella Sera pinot grigio,
Tostitos, queso. How much is
too much pleasure? These half-
empty days of water we are
not eager to drink. Sit in shade
til sundown, table umbrella up
to block the cancer sun we
know. We know.
(originally published in Kissing Dynamite, Spring 2018)
for now cheap breakable wheat is my bible okay
I’ve been in this basement for three days
etc. etc.
orange skies in the psalms of your dimples
(my throat is parched…)
it’s simple open your palms
for your mouth
you could fit needles in these holes
constellations in these holes
should’ve put those tiny strings of stars
in my cart to bide my time
instead of sacks of snacks
to fill & fill myself
until I rip open my last plastic head
dust volcanoes until my eyes bleed Sunshine red
my fingertips light & salted tiger sticks
my preacher says Jesus won’t eat Cheez-Its
I believe crumbs
lodged in teeth will return in three days
(originally published in Unlikely Stories Mark VI, Fall 2017)