December 2020

My grandmother said it was going to be long—as long as you can hold your lineage—depending on how long you can hold your tongue—as long as your tongue can wrap around the pit—of some stolen stone fruit—as long as you...

We’ll wake up, Sunday morning, and read the paper. Read each other. Become

consumers

of each other’s stories, a desperate reaching

for another body’s warmth—its words buoying us through a world. We carry

graveyards on our backs and I’m holding a lightning bug

hostage in...

I knew the names of stones at the river mouth,
crossed giving thanks to their uneasy spirits.

I heard killings in the shadows, knew to turn keen and quick,
travel in the presence of  thunder, leave no scent or spoor behind.

Preferring the high...