At Dusk

  Out on a walk, I saw two girls screaming through a two-seater swing, two fans of blonde hair. There was a hill in the way, shoulder-high, and they were nameless, without bodies, the way birds might appear when lying in their nest. I left them against a blood-orange sun and bent around a curve,…

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In Utero

  You are becoming too much for me. I find it difficult to read poetry, to read anything. I roll onto my side, the book turning with me, and I feel your body drop onto the bed, weighing me there, small anchor. My lungs have learned a new method of breathing. Everything, all the organs…

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Anticipating Her Arrival

  I have asked my husband, What do you think she will look like? He frowns, and I know there is no answer. Not right now. All I know is beauty: crows bursting from a field, a candle flame, a gust of wind after rainfall. These things are beautiful, imprinted somewhere in her face, her…

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Due Date

  The act is violent, the tearing open, the skin. I imagine bird claws, the talons, a wind breaking open between two buildings. The mouth, agape. And the arrival. Two shadows.     August 20, 2014, MLT    

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I Am Running Out of Poems.

  And then I look to the fall trees, and I wonder if they ever think, “I am running out of leaves.” They probably do, they with their tall, scarred bodies, launching outward and up. Sometimes, they are probably dreaming, or worse, waking. They open their eyes to colored leaves, the green having fallen out,…

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Searching Tide Pools for Shore Crabs

  Crab is such an ugly word—the hard k, its suddenness. I’m steeped in these small pools, or perched on the surrounding rocks and sand, one hole after the next, searching for shore crabs, carcinus maenas. I find their gray and tan bodies, slick with the tide, their sideways catapult from rock slide to water….

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Garden Stems

  I go out into the world, looking for strawberries like the ones from my mother’s garden. They were small and firm, sweet but bitter, dirt caught in the leaves and deeper pits. We plucked them fresh from their stems and ate them before cleaning them, the dirt and seeds caught in-between our teeth. Now…

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Untitled; An Accordion

  Yesterday, I spent the day sleeping away my life. It was peaceful, the blankets all clustered near the back porch door, and all the doors and windows on the first floor were left wide open. The sounds of wind and wind chimes, birds calling, the scent of trees, came and went. All that was…

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Collecting Horses

  I want to get back into drawing, the pencil in my hand, the thick charcoal under my nails. I keep collecting spare pieces of paper, of cardboard, in the hope that something might happen. A horse, gray and white shadows, it appears—the long mane draped over one shoulder like a flag, the exposed eye…

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Memories

  You should know by now that we can’t go back. Not like this. Not back through the electric fence or past the sheep, dehydrated and teeming. Past the mailboxes and songs. Our bodies are like their bodies now, stormed over and pale with all this sunlight and dung. We never should have come out…

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