Poetry

  • Steeple Beyond Repair

    How did the people realize the steeple needed repair? They prayed below for what stood above. They hired a steeplejack to go and see. Before descending he took a look at the towers of Boston to the north and skyward at contrails of flights. He paused to consider the damage. They prayed against the worst…

  • Ode to Retinol

    You’re kept in capsules on the bathroom counter,  a synthetic strain of vitamin A, sealed for potency. Your purpose is to shield the face from signs of aging. Over-the-counter  lacks the power existing in medical grade—  though too much, over time, can blur the vision,  incite a kind of skin-peeling condition or frail the bones….

  • Melancholia

    Before your birth,                     I marked you as my own, the way I marked                     your mother before hers. Inscribed on every                     cell of every bone, the standard of my family                     never blurs. I coil between the                     makings of your bed and in the small hours                     whisper you awake. I poison every                     sentence in your head and…

  • A Man and a Woman

    Translated from the Spanish by Pablo Medina            A man and a woman walk down the street laughing. They make plans. They had a grand time in the hotel where they made love and they laugh, make another date for tomorrow. Life is wonderful. Tomorrow he’ll be laid out in a funeral home one hour…

  • Around here

    Down at the beach. The lake trying to wash the moon off its back. The moon trying to ride the horse of the lake. Me lighting a candle and sticking it in sand. Another. Making a circle for the wind to burn its fingers on. For the moon to read a flickering elegy to itself….

  • That Halloween 

    We were downing cheap red wine at a bar called Library   Books free for the taking The carafe like a blood-filled IV bag I opened a book on palmistry   Lifelines When my words began to slur you took me  to Mickie-Dee’s   A ghoul was there and the grim reaper   Masks on…

  • Birthday Poem

    It is not my birthday but today I walk by the cold shrubs of my town’s finest lane popping birthday cake jelly beans into my mouth one by one. How spectacular, the way we’ve reduced an event into a little waxen egg! It is speckled like a robin’s egg; pink, blue, yellow, orange. It even…

  • Alzheimer’s translation: Homophonic VI

    Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. —My memory of my father’s voice message Up the sky-escalator                                              to meet his maker. An angel measures                               the draperies of my dad’s inscape                                              with tailor’s tape, palpates the spot                               near his unfaith. Rate your life’s pain.                                              Weighty, dad answers. A…