Puberty Commemoration Tiny wolves stiff conversation weights the wrists spread the ghosts thin as jam honey the locks. Sunday questions dangling one hairpin, then another. You are growing animated. I put my hand around you our thirst so delicate. Warm me up, I say. Afterward, I only remember that it was winter.
Flight I wanted to help – I did, when I saw you cartwheeling across highway lanes, pushed and bullied by rushing traffic, no longer lifted by streams of air. You sat there – stunned. I could not bear to give the weight of my wheels. As you blinked, crumpled wings leaning against pavement, I swerved
Dear Sweet & Sugared I miss 2 a.m., Virginia Slims between MAC lips, second-hand cami with rose-print, when they mistook me being on the clock, pulling into the park, asking if I’d go with them into that frostbitten night. I would risk it now. Those degrees, that job, these divisions between my dirty roots and
A 6yearold girl giving voice for the first time to curvy Barbie sings in a testing room at Mattel’s headquarters. Her playmates erupt in laughter. When an adult comes into the room and asks her if she sees a difference between the dolls’ bodies, she modifies her language. “This one’s a little chubbier,” she
INTERVALS Once a flutter meant birds at blossoms or how they hovered to taste the feeder on the deck. The number of strokes in a second. A slap in the ribs shake break repeat a shudder inside that hasty broken drumming. Now means an engine coughs out of time its rancid cloud spits
CAVE OF SWALLOWS Imagine a man with a blue parachute leaping into the darkness. The tips of your fingers leak. The droplets roll to the ground, carving pathways for your body. Now in the pit of my chest something winged and delicate stirs. It has no bones. It sees with music. I remember,
FOREST ROAD 46 one smeared spine cloud across the sky the river noise is competing for my thoughts I am almost too naked for my own good the texts reassure me that everyone has belly rolls with luck under the sun I will burn and something will be revealed to me under this
Do you remember when you were born? It was 10:30am and a gloriously sunny St. Patrick’s Day morning. You were due to enter the parade of elderflower cordial, fungi, French beans, garlic, Ninja Turtles. You marched with your best friends, Spider Stacey and Cuchulainn. You played a tin whistle and demonstrated the spirit of punk.