Poetry

how now, sweetmeat, will you eat us too …

I can’t scrub away / the shadows.

The word beloved belongs to him.

I try to decode the doctor’s words / across a paper curtain. She wishes / I was not awake.

Grief is no stranger. I know / what it is to long for someone / you loved fiercely.

my son stoops / until his mouth is level with the fresh-fallen // snow, and there he parts his lips

The first time we tried to conceive you, / the moon slid between the earth

My daughter asks if the bowl is broken or together / (like her father and me)

Lady of February, of Frozen Light, of Time Siphoned into Crystalline Brightness / As mother to Mother, thank you

Nights are like beads on a string / that keeps breaking.

Zipper your raincoat and put on your hood. / Bring plenty of water and almond cream.