Category: Poetry

All day the queen has been chattering in my ear. / I cannot complain; I invited her. / Truthfully, I’m too fond of her—her buzzing shakes something deep in me / And I want to respond with my own cry.

Not much. Only everything.

convinced me to connect the constellations on your backbehind seaweed curtains and underneath sea glass lanterns.the sea called me, with the promise of soft skin and cerulean eyes.our home was a house on stilts, overlooking thecopper water and sharp sand. careful, you said as you showed me where to place my feet to avoid glass-infested blood. […]

empty streets: / I make illegal left turns at red lights. / the moon bursts and bruises: / a plum as the aftermath of violence / hanging over the web of glowing street lamps.

during the three-year rain / Saturn birtheda beautiful new ring that some dubbed the greatestmishandling of galactic expectation awed by dauntless Saturn / my loverand i settled into our waterproofcasings to apprenticeourselves to the solar systemand learn:how sad to be flunginto your own outer spacehow dry you can become without tearshow cold to forget the […]

I know you come around here often,so why don’t you measure the salt of my tears?(I have etched your name on every drop.)The slime of me craves the sweat of you.My tentacles long to riddle your ship with holesjust like your eyes speared all my heartsclean through their exoskeleton shield.I want you in the depths […]

with a line borrowed from Ojo Taiye i what will you sing if hunger abides in your blood?ash pours back into the waters, this is the beginningof grief. the body is part-salt, part-coal, part-grain, andit sits at the heart of the water. there is an animalfor everything created by nature, and the hyena is the […]

Every day I carry a shoeful of sand to my square office where,stumbling from edge to edge, I bruise like a baby and age like one. If I bring my own supplies, I figure,I can at least blunt the corners of the reception desk, deodorize the salmon in the fridge, andsmother the robot at the […]

face me Oxymandias / open your stone eyes / this world has changed

Pale hands beckon like open flame / foxfire on your lips / leads me deeper into your swamp / like folk tales of buried treasure / that I want to make true.