Poetry

  • Chrysalis

    Corpses push up through thawing permafrost, as I scrape salmon skin off a pan at the sink; on the porch, motes in slanting yellow light undulate in air. Is Venus at dusk as luminous as Venus at dawn? Yesterday I was about to seal a borax capsule angled up from the bottom of a decaying…

  • Alibi

    I was waiting like a saint before the era of saints as she searched the racks for just the right threads. I was wondering after a hundred years, which is the body and which the clothes, although I would never ask her this. I was staring at the girls behind the window when she emerged…

  • Refugees in Our Own Land

    The night is busy with the growth of stars. Above us peaceful. Shiyáázh, my son, fusses in his cradleboard. The protective rainbow shaped by his father arches over his face to protect him. In the dark sand below Monster Slayer’s archenemy rises again to pull us off this rock where we’ve taken refuge since winter’s…

  • Anniversary Letter from Metropolis

    Mon petit chou,                         no more great vows are said. Can’t save, extinguish, master, or attain— My gusto blown to bits. The carpenter shaves a door, below his breath Sings I got daisies in green pastures, I got my girl, who could ask for anything more? The gutters overflow and eat concrete. From upper decks,…

  • Engagement

    The king is murdered and his daughter, Mis, goes mad, growing fur and killer claws, escaping into the woods. She is tamed by Dubh Ruis, a harp player. Marrying her, he becomes king. —Irish legend   Don’t touch me, don’t come near. I’ll shred your flesh from bone. Don’t even stare. I can smell you…

  • Transatlantic

    Lebanon, Nebraska She stares through the window to the garden gate, guarded by Thunderbirds, one on each side, the road leading out to the highway. I’m waiting until I don’t love you, she answers. Puts her cup on its hook. Impossible to dry anything. Dishes, clothes. Your cheek where the cat licks it clean. So…