R. F. Fortune, Sorcerers of Dobu (1932) They say he slept with his wifeLast night—but did he sleepWith his wife or was sheFar away? With an empty skinBy his side he slept. It looks for sure like he sleptWith his wife, but who’s to sayThat was her by his sideAnd not the hide she leftAs away she…
At this time of day, goldish-gray rains down and our garden plot turns to mud.I forgot to plant anything this year, but it’s totally fine because I saw a headline, Honey Bees Are Not At Risk of Extinction. For this, I praise last year’s plumeof borage, chamomile, salvia. So this is how things will be…
You’d think it was a teenager in a rented tuxgoing to the prom in a borrowed car butit’s a cedar waxwing in his cupsdrunk on juniper berries.I get it.I was allowed one dance at the senior promas my mother worriedI might have sex right after—disgracing the Lord and the familyin that order.The Lord in those…
Behind the saints & other tchotchkes, behind the urnstill waiting to receive me— I’ve slipped the summer I scoured Europewith my Death. When I was Death’s best mount, the maremade biddable. Soft-mouthed. Eager to be ridden. In widow’s crepe, how ferociously I courted him,how gladly I amused himin a gown too girlish, the old scums…
The first time the girls ask what the word means, colonized, a lark falls dead at our feet, undoubtedly, on a small lawn of white petals from the climbing rose. Platitudes, I mean plenitudes, the greenery’s plenitude. I will wait until tonight and when the bristling blossoms close, I will tell the girls something or everything. I…
After I forgot the salsa. After my panic attackand my tumble downstairs to screaminto the winter coats. After your kindnesswasn’t enough, or it was, but I needed to getsomething right. I drove back to Victorico’sin the cold rain. And the cashier’s eyeswere soft. And I waited for the quesadillaI didn’t want. And six extra containers…
Clouds race each other across the heavens, as dazzlingas they are ephemeral. Frayed ravens inquire,Why can’t you accept his death or anyone else’s? Botanists sayplants register memories of winter, which they useto decide if it’s safe, meaning warm enough, to bloom.Scores of sexually deceptive orchids were discoveredon two new islands this June. Snakes make friends.Mice reflect…
“Why is my mama sleeping?” he asksstruggling to unbuckle, hardlyhearing the noiseof the machine gun bursts His childish torso slidesunder her breasts and belly—it hurts them both, yetlax as seaweed they lie for ages under the watersmoving along with the tideuntil a man’s voiceshouts: “Come out! Out!” “Seriously?” is allshe can manage, as if lodged…
When I walked past your house last nightyou’d been dead a week. A crate was tippedagainst the porch, the lights were off,the awning pitched a little further north.It reminded me of the time a friendasked me to come over while her catwas put to sleep. Rafferty—his silky legsagainst me as he passed. Like a dark…
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