The House Finch

There was a pair of house finches building a small nest outside our window. I’d watch them weave it all together—the female, with her muted brown feathers, working relentlessly on her art. The twigs meticulously placed, one over the next—how they intertwined with one another. The male, with his bright cherry red head and breast, …

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Unbreak the Son: a poem

I feel it there, between my heart and ribs, Along that thin strip of flesh. A crack upon the sternum Words And how they rest there in the shallow scoop of skin A clavicle. Words and how they rest there Fingers how they hover on an iliac Scapulae and how the feathers bleed when they …

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worth: a memory

I used to twist my words until they told stories I had never heard before. Too forgiving, other people used to say. A woman— Maintaining imagery, An object to be viewed. I know how to blame myself And how to polish the same wineglass till it sparkles— Till it shatters in the hand. I remember …

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Ritual

My cousin told me once that when she was trying to quit smoking, she buried her tobacco.  She walked all along down the beach until she found a place within the sand and she buried it.  If I remember right, she rolled one last cigarette before she nested the loose shreds of leaves into the …

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A Haunted House and Dying

Today, I placed my forehead on the keyboard and typed the letter j a hundred times.  With my nose.  The tip of it.  Something soothing in the motion.  I never loved the letter j and yet here I am, a stream of jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjs across the page. I was supposed to water my grandmother’s roses today, …

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