poetry

The first girl I kissed pushedme against the serrated brickssame color as her busted lip.Transfer student. Eyes familiar withdarkness akin toMidwestern stormcell—the untitled blue I like best. I counted the seconds aftershe

In the beginning was the Word and the Word was as of yet undefined. The Word had freckles across the bridge of her nose that only showed up in the sunshine, and

my last meal as a girl I dined onsnow. the sky snared my teethbut everyone pretended not to see. the snow was luminous and wet.a blue cat pooled in the eyes ofthe

It does not matter if you’re rich in life, As long as you’re rich in heaven.  My father, in heaven, smokes Camels. In the spirit months we feast together.Mother plates chicken cutlet, fish soup, Sticky

As a child a painted turtle found me, so I made a cage for him, but by the next morning he had disappeared. I assumed that the turtle was a him because

here’s a story about the woman i love:                            in my sleep,  we wander the museum, & she points out

With a line after Matthea Harvey  There’s a house on my palm. it sways with the wind. in our basement, my parents store records in an old crate. they sit reminiscing while