Redraw my body in hexagons; maybe I’ll feel more at home. We’ll try this again. I’m the face in every mirror, the man dancing on the tightrope. (I wanted to be the man this time) Rearrange. I’m the woman on pins and needles, flying just out of reach. You are painting the curves of my… Read More This One’s Me

This is what I want to remember— the sound of feet splashing on the street as you dash through every puddle, sneakers kicking up a choreographed spray of scattered rain. I want to tell you—this, this is how I want to remember you, I want to see you again (and again and again); years and… Read More rewind a rain dance for summer storms

I Once, we were walking through the Old City Near the skating rink, ice overshadowed By the grand Carousel, grand and empty Except for us, my blue spirit hallowed Like the slick cobblestones that slipped us down Streets. You slipped by with your French and bore us To that hanging Cathedral, argent crown Over some… Read More In Canada, Somewhere

ochre spread on coal skin chalky hands holding brown limbs vermillions of droplets have left the body the grey must be dressed in milky drapes their soft chambers of soil prepared beneath our hands washed and cleaned and clasped for a warmer harvest and a cooler morning but Forget not that hues still seep that… Read More rites

Musk of men. She washes her brassiere— and downs her coffee, black lace cups lift her into blaring morning and she tames her teased hair. Chipped linoleum— she sweeps. Yellowing windows sift sunshine onto cracked countertop, giving boiled-egg-and-toast breakfast a bit of glamour. Is the loud light determined still to embrace her with what She… Read More Light’s Loud

When you’re washing them out like this the citrus is replaceable. It might be lemonade or maybe orange. It could be something heavier like grapefruit, even – the thing is they all smell the same, like summer. I feel like sunflowers. I feel yellow-orange and citrusy. Replaceable. But also permanent, planted in the heat installed… Read More Recycling

Grandfather keeps a box of matchsticks in his pocket. I watch him as a child watches the unfamiliar, fearful, fascinated, watch the casual flick of his wrist, the spark, and then the smoke. I never liked his smoke. Mother blames my bad luck on the absence of water in my name, the abundance of fire.… Read More for everyone I’ve lied to about my fear of fire

This is the spell to hold him off. Coffin nails, a candle, a mason jar filled with cool water, a photograph bent. Hold a pendulum over the face counterclockwise. In the city everything is so unbearably close, he and I so unbearably close that every beard on the subway makes me shake, the kind of… Read More Binding Spell

He is a smooth stone pillar He is a pleasant tranquil tomb I turn cloudy like earth yawns from the bank and breathes into the current Slide over, slick claws graze the pebbles face the wall face the spring feel the echo of his eyes resounding in space Warm sunlight cools on my back Ripples… Read More Gray Green Man