June 2020

This summer, we drank cardamom iced tea sweetened with agave—
savoring an idea of sweetness lingering, not as if we actually ate honey
from the lovely overflow of  liquid summer heat and soft beeswax
tongued with a wedge of spanakopita and a platter...

Crisscross the lines from mother to daughter
crisscross the lines raggedy zigzag in wide strokes
the mother the daughter crisscross their dull thoughts
crisscross their sharp thoughts ziggity zag the lines
crisscross their softening lines
crisscross the brown lines widening above the blue lines
crisscross the...

This, what God feels like: laughing
alone in an empty room of tiny doors,
behind every door a metal box, inside each
a man’s red heart, lying. I don’t write
of the cartoonish thing split and jagged
at its insides. Instead, of how I break
even...