Tag: Write One Poem Per Day

  This is how it happens—he lifts the dress above your head and brings it down around your hands. You become a peacock, all feathers,…

  The body is pregnant                     with limbs and dismemberment—they tremble                     and clutch. Their mouths are open and closed again, the green bodies                     like ghosts                     turning…

  Humans are a series of feathers left inside-out. You are out in the rain, pacing from one eve to another, looking up at the…

  Before you know it, the earth takes on an extra layer of skin. The wind is whipping, whistling, and when you look outside, you…

  It’s this simple: the first relationship is nothing but a series of elephant bones— the dust and chalk that stumbles through the mouth. The…

  Whether it was old wood or metal, it did not matter: it was the flight that was important, the escape and redemption of a…

  The questions come like glass and ice. She removes her hair and a piece of her skull—this is all that could ever protect me—and…

  Lackadaisical cries, and the morning is open. Outside, the world is still dark, but in here—through the neighbor’s walls—I hear the earth turning. She…

  The myth begins with gray fur and yellow-moon eyes. The teeth. First, there are whispered sightings, dismissed into the neighboring water. * Next, the…

  “I’m not committed to life,” she said and her body was ash beneath the moon. She ate a pomegranate down to its last seed,…

                                                     And then I tell you you make me feel better. I eat the fruit and the bread—the body, you say—and I go so…