I am a psychic mother from psychic
mothers/Mine planted flowers
right before I fell in love/still I love
RECENTLY PUBLISHED
From the Archives: I Guess By Now I Thought I’d Be Done With Shame
I left the shower and kept
singing. I sang about my body
like I was proud. I was proud.
Memento Vivere
ron skips across asphalt, black eyes / like stigmatas, gray-brown fur left in the street
CONFESSION
Spring is the loneliest time, but the jacarandas / keep coming and coming as if deaf to expectations.
“American Sonnet Upon Finding an Old Report Card” and “American Sonnet Whenever [Gaza/Afghanistan/Vietnam/etc.] Gets Called a Land of Bombs”
My toenails churned the dirt, searching for Earth’s weak spots: / places to root.
My Once and Future Body
Would tell you how I, fourteen, dreamt of these exact hands / In the latent underside of a wave.
