Poetry

Sea-Maid

By the selvage of the sea-green water I arise, sand-cast from the hands of two young girls. Born through the sun-baked unselfconsciousness of hours, embroidered with flotsam. An abalone, mother of pearl becomes my sea ear. With this shimmering bowl I listen to every sound. A flotilla of sea lace, scooped up dripping, waves for…

Why Plates Are Round

Because, of breasts with their nipples, of eggs so warm beneath their hen they seem to pulse, to throb, to give birth to themselves the way when your mouth has been on my nipple so long I begin to dissolve, begin to travel through your body, all larger longer than my own and lodge there,…

Primer

In abalone, northern lights      settle down            like barnacles incrusting holds      of chinaware            beneath the seas. Light plays,      rolling designs on waves—            hypnotic damascene— and gaze turns into sea-stare      trained            on the slates of eternity. Beyond, below, the headlands,      magnitudes of brightness            fade; light settles down,      losing speed            in long…

Vaginal Discharge

for Carolyn Matsumoto, 1959-1984 Everybody has some and everybody knows Dorothy has beautiful feet and does it matter ot anybody other than of course the ballet master who told her this is the foot I have been waiting for. Took it in his hands. Let it rest there on his thigh while he held her…

Aladdin

My father strokes each boot with wax. The smell's licorice. Sounds of wings as he buffs the black hides to spit-shine against his knees. I'd shave my face— echoing moons smooth, by either shoe. But men are measured to their glow. When night heels in, foot to sole, it's not brilliance he sees. I funnel…

40-year-old Picture

My mother and her friends fit into the sockets of the no-color sky, tilted ocean sky. The salt-filmed air — a plagiary of the air condition in the mill where they work: its measure of exact seams, the quick symmetrical rhythm of eight precise motions. I am older than she is here in her zip-back…

Abiding Love

1 I know all that's wrong with coveting your neighbor's life, but I want the one I've invented for this couple in front of me in line at the license bureau. I can see the pulse in his temple, the faint down along her jaw. But I can't understand their constant murmurings, so practiced they…

Afterwards

Between his crib slats the baby fed on them, a man, a woman, the white sheet they turned to, the vows, the sweats, they traded, gulping. Afterward, someone in shadow got up, put on the falling light, first footsteps of the rain, returning only to help prepare their supper. The other dozed before the window's…