Down the Hill

poetry
Tesla runs away to a high onion-dome chapel     entombing him the night. It is off-season for wobbling pilgrims, affording the child his very own necessity     of dread. Fleeing— the point…

Starling?

poetry
I preferred their 5 am chirps in the rafters to my roommate’s sex groans. But what a lazy renter I was, never climbing the attic for a sight or paging…

Last Year

poetry
I sometimes see a fox from my window: brush of brown, echo of red by the woods— more a suggestion of a fox, shadow of movement. Just when I think…

Nursing Mother Dreams of Chagall

poetry
Something loosens, the grip of gravity slipping as sleep approaches. A buoyant heart rises, wanting its own view. And why not—here, now the roof the floor, and heaven there for…

My Daughter’s Teeth, My Father’s Beard

poetry
My daughter wants to lose her teeth. All her friends have: Gavin, Gabi, Brooke and Morgan, Samantha, Matt, Rebecca and Riley. She’s started banging into doorjambs mouth first. I tell…

Easter, 2012

poetry
My daughter picks the painted eggs from under the juniper bushes that line the path as maples weep last night’s rain and the sun apologizes for being absent. My daughter’s…

Hush—16

poetry
Again the drink, the musk and identity of honeysuckle, orange blossom, pear. Again pluck and flood. A body takes juice and distillation from inaction, shoulder to shoulder without witness over…

The Broken Story

poetry
So we decided to fill in the baby book the same weekend I got the snip— something to do while I lay in bed recovering from the pull in my…

Cleaning House

poetry
Sister, it’s just about done and we’re in the clear, safe in the day’s margin. Make me one of those bourbon drinks with a quarter key lime and let’s perch…

Stations of the Cross

poetry
Someone had taken an axe to my life which meant that although everything was in pieces we needed a Christmas tree if only for the children to gather round as…

Christ Stopped at Hollesley

poetry
My mother asked me to take a turkey to my sister who lives on the other side of the heath. Mother said, Your sister lives on the other side of…

The Street of Measuring Scales

poetry
In the town below the mountain, a street through which a bridge rushes. On the corner facing the world, a pub, “To the Holed Fluffy Coat.” Opposite, a small house…