When I Go to Rehab, She Visits
By Essay Issue 106
The counselor says that I am in the romance phase. She is right. I am in love with heroin and with the needle, the whole ritual, in love even with the bruises on my arms.
Read MoreMy Mother Tries to Teach Me about the Body
By Poetry Issue 104
It wasn’t long before I began
pinching myself for fat, for acne, learned
to hate my body in a swimsuit, in clothes.
His Mother Reading
By Poetry Issue 103
Bible open. On her lap. Same page for years.
Her white hair. Spooky red ink. Deuteronomy.
Proof
By Poetry Issue 103
Why pray for the dead if not for this,
for God’s speed on their journey, home,
beneath the burden of the proof they bear.