After Jennifer S. Cheng 1: the sea captured in a glass 2: a homophone for having enough for leftovers, a synonym for abundance 3: the fish, who have already forgotten you. It’s not personal 4: where memory fails, there’s still imagining 5: you. Not as an ocean but outside 6: glass and/or acrylic
Read MoreOne way to measure the passage of time is to count the number of days since you last had sex. I’ve lost count. I only know it’s
I am driving west, away from New Mexico, where Kai and I had made our home, when the shrubs suddenly give way to rock: Cliff faces scarred with eras past. Steep buttes
Clanking trams pass my windows opened to the street. In a mason jar almost full with water, I place roses, given by friends, in sun atop the kitchen table. A
2022 Four days after my wedding, my mother posts on a popular question-answer forum asking strangers to help her kill herself in our garage. Nathan and I are in Palm Springs, trying
Like a waiter reciting how the evening specials are prepared, a man in uniform announces, so that the eight of us can hear, that you are probably a man in your fifties,
Year after year, adaptation: neverunwieldy, but steady. Sometimes careless. Always there is traffic, and groceries.Those are the easy things. And then sometimesthese ruptures, or raptures. Great distancesexpand / contract with my breath
“I need to / catch your brain / and steady it”— Sonia Sanchez on this day ur brimming w/ confidence as if after years of getting got u finally got them back
I broke the vase. I daydream about moving states and telling no one. The coyotes in my dream must have meant something. I know no government secrets. I never loved him Probably.
Parched When I woke up this morning I was thirsty for waterso I went into the kitchen and made a coffee. Then I reclined on the couch, warming my ovarieswith my laptop
Willadean was the one who suggested we take the cat home. If it was up to me, I would’ve left it meowing behind that dumpster at Denny’s. My stomach was packed full