Winter 2019

This One’s Me

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

rewind a rain dance for summer storms

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

The Orifice: He Realized What He Perceived as Choice was Actually Inevitability

In Canada, Somewhere

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

reclining in red

Light’s Loud

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

Snow for Christmas

I first saw the Lego Christmas Village on November fourth. I remember the exact day because it was Ellis’s eighth birthday party at the Zoo and Mom took me to Anglo-Dutch to buy him a present. The invitation is still pinned up on our bulletin board above the toaster even though the party already happened.… Read More Snow for Christmas