before the nights we spent enameling / this reflection in my eye, my mother / danced on a fire escape / limned by black fire, and you / glowed bright with the silhouette of a camera.
RECENTLY PUBLISHED
Barking Dog Nocturnal
The coyotes didn’t show themselves, no matter how hard I searched. Some nights my mom came into my room and stroked my hair before I left to search them out.
Breach
...I didn’t see this, but I read somewhere
that an orca carried her dead calf for weeks to mourn it—
Katharina Kepler’s Confession (1546-1622)
I laugh—oh the things I would have conjured / could I conjure: silicone Ohropax, flashlights, / popsicles, plastic diapers, tampons— / I was always on my period
