Naming Grief

How do you talk about a sunset, without sounding like every conversation about sunsets? At the market, the checker she says, The sunset is beautiful—I love that I can watch it from this window. I say, Oh yes, the colors are stunning. Those pinks, those yellows. Then, when I get home, my mother-in-law, she says, …

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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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Must Love Dogs

I'm sitting on the mountaintop, my chest heaving with the exertion, my dog half dead beside me, poor thing, I forgot she had such tiny little legs compared to mine.  She doesn't seem to mind, though.  She crawls up onto my lap and licks at the tender skin that lines my wrist, her tongue crossing …

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