More on: Poetry

Sometimes I wish God / would have loved the world less and kept his son.

The dog / rests her head on my knee. A person is not like a god. / A person is not like a dog.

from where I was broken I could not flee.

When my mother said
Linda
and looked that look, I could

see it all before me.

Our blood sugar was so high that our wounds
had stopped healing. We were either a tapestry
of Band-Aids or very careful.

Your heart stands wide for all to enter in: it should have been a door for me alone.

do these monks with their straight lines / and right angles have the only franchise?

Last words from death row. “I love you endlessly, my honeybird.”

Two women, in separate instances, each blessed and healed a child in her care. Neither of these women had ever discussed the blessing with anyone before for fear it would be considered “inappropriate.” Another woman gathered her sister’s frail, cancer-ridden body in her arms and blessed her with one pain-free day.

Of course, we too came here / hoping to be cracked open, amazed.