Poetry

i’ve seen some of the cutest little colored / children in the grocery store today, she says

The lake is an icy half moon, / water eclipses each day.

Coconino sandstone behind us, / mottled clouds / pierced by hawk flight.

my mandibles as serrated as my remarks / about the life she chose—she flies backwards.

feeling married and enclosed / as rain flecks our windows, // lashing the car, the road, the grasses, / the bright and hot transformed

For now, we are returned to nature: he is wanted, he wants not.

let your bare toes take root everywhere they will / let the wind shake loose your laughter

the left pea pod is asleep / they are craters on the dead / surface of the moon / or maybe they are tiny / mouths of goldfish

I am spatched flat, / leeched and rasped / by the shape life now / will never take.

She is a wisp / of skin over hollow bones, / a ribcage like harp strings / holding her wild-beating heart, / scapulae jutting like vestigial wings, / fingers and…

But listen to me, going on. / It’s just that / the less you understand, / the more I want to tell you, / before you’re all gone.