Poetry
Poetry,
MEMORANDUM FOR THE MOTHER OF MY HUSBAND
“. . . you’ve shown me some crimes are so tall even / God tilts His head to meet them/ in the eye.”
Poetry,
February 23, 2020
The night I understood what it means to be / Black, a line of bats perched on my roof, / owls fell into my room like rain.
Poetry,
Self Portrait of an Open Wound
Unable to remember / how I’ve arrived, at night / I get drunk, vodka / on the shore, searching / for paradise in any crevice
Poetry,
Our Hands Dirty as Lunatics’
I squeeze the snapdragons / as though it were childhood / and the smallest motion / of petal mandible / were a thousand words / for loving you / laid out on a blanket:
Poetry,
Still Life with Bouquet, Golden Spade (out of frame)
we be bouquets, be green, leaves / ethereal, be wildweeds, be lamb’s-quarter, be day / -flowers’ cool blue, be hue busting / up bleak blur.
Poetry,
The Difference
What is this, my swelled-up chest wanting to burst at the Bee Gees “To Love Somebody” and at dropping my daughter off for her first day of daycare? Doesn’t it see any difference? What is this, my reeling brain letting all the weeps come forth and sucking relief into place, my wet face […]
Poetry,
Another Poem On Gamophobia
I wish I would change
like seasons, like these unleaving
trees, even the pumpkins rotting
on porches.
Poetry,
La Peluquería
On my seventh birthday, my tía took me to the beauty salon to get an alisado. It’s time that you got rid of that pelo malo, she winked like a full moon stretching above the sky. Her friend Puchi stirred a white creamy concoction and smeared it over my scalp […]