September 2018

I was one year old when my nanny went away
leaving no memory of a face that watched,
arms that held, hands that fed and cleaned me,
left no record of her voice or name. My father
died, leaving wisps of pipe smoke for...

I’m striving to be a better astronaut,
but consider where I’m coming from,

the exosphere,
a desk where the bluest air

thins to a lip. Impossible
to know the difference

from where I sit and space.
I promise I still dream

of coming back to you, settling
on your...

1

Father trellis of my voice (or noose) abruptly vanished — 


2

I wear this razory fishhook
of crucifix.
Look.

How it helps me
keep my head
down,

down with shame,
the glory
and shame

see this frail weightless chain:

there is another
like it.
Sometimes
my neck feels
like it’s
breaking — 

It hangs right here
near the heart’s
hidden room

where a...