BRUNCH.

i am descendant from women who greet death like brunch. /
i do not know if this is bravery or foolishness.



RECENTLY PUBLISHED


OR WAS IT A METAPHOR?

The mouth is a hollow / for language. I know little of what shreds a child into two countries, but I think joy returns to the / flushed roof of my palate when my mouth tenders Igarra.


“a poem for Justin” and Two Poems

because you asked me your first word /
& i said i didn’t know /
& i could have told you a good lie /
& made that a small poem we share.


My body no longer

as if we could lay ourselves down at our own feet /
to mourn, as if we could shuck skin like a snake, slide away /
naked and new, some born-again eve.


in the room that it happens

in the room / i am prescribed / anger / unemployment / broken / back / doors / hooded
/ property / value / algorithmic // blackness


follow the moon

maybe i wake and feel the wind move through my body
/ but she reminds me what love lives in this skin, / says stay. says stay anyways.