Duet
By Poetry Issue 105
Scale
By Poetry Issue 89
______I am soft sift ______In an hourglass _____________ —Hopkins Against the darkening winterplum sky, a lone contrail whitens—loose thread, untufted cotton. A perfect inverse of me: ____________________________Lenten moon of my belly taut, halved by a slurred gray line. Linea nigra, the doctor says, my belly button’s new ashen tail a ghostly likeness of the cut…
Read MoreAdvent
By Poetry Issue 89
Last week a jellied disc in one of my husband’s lower vertebrae cinched, slipped—on the x-ray the bones’ thorned edges gritted against each other, his whole spine yearning left, a lily stem arched toward the promise of light. Now the days shrink into themselves, the trees bare-limbed but for squirrels’ nests and the green bloom…
Read MoreExile with Fox
By Poetry Issue 89
Midnight, mid-May. The earth supple with three weeks of rain, Queen Anne lacing the clover, dandelions racing the slope of hill behind our house. Water pooled in every nick and hollow bared to sky, moss slick and greening inside the curbs. Our dog noses through yards, puddle-pawed, until suddenly he is gone—bent to the wild…
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