To receive the newsletter, SIGN UP
For premium content and the print edition, SUBSCRIBE
Advertisement

Nacre

+++I am the remnant for my mother’s cousin Pearl, a totem standing in the shoes she had worn +++in my mother’s affections. I’m not sure anymore how, of...

Summer. You.

What tells you ripeness, Love? What tells you wonder? To green a bud to bloom, to burst, to plunder Spring’s Dear light. Who is most wonderful?...

Tornado Back Home

It was the sound of stirring stone fruits In a stationary blender, and the screens Guarded discernment, and slats faced the wrong Way, smoke alarm pierced with...

On Seeing You, My Son, Overmedicated for the First Time

I drive us through the drive-thru & you misaim the fries to your mouth; flimsy, undercooked strands dropping on your lap, in the crack beside the...

Wasted

1. On the darkest days of pandemic I avoid the rooms with the tools I could easily use to kill myself. I’ve almost certainly witnessed a few animals die of their own volition. Squirrels, insects, a...

Didn’t I Fuck You Once?

I’ve left the old Juilliard building, am waiting for the #5 bus in the dusk of my first October in New York. Strolling by, three trick-or-treaters smack me...

A Day In March, 2021

Such a windless day, you lie on our driveway, after sniffing on a forest trail. I sit down, put you on my lap. Your red curly coat glows; your...

The Red

The red of the port scar near her heart of the Citgo sign’s glow when I turn to the window of my eyes from watching her in the infusion...

The Most Portable Instrument

I am learning there is a single horn    growing from the top of my head Because it is invisible no one can take it from me When I walk down...

Love Song

“Like a swift migrating fish, the word cellulite has suddenly crossed the Atlantic.” —Vogue (April 15, 1968) Come, sea ripple. Come, ocean swell of the world that...

Missing

Late spring, nights still cold, the stars clear as spotlights, people I love keep dying. Every week a different shocking loss: cancer, gunshot, embolism, suicide, on and...

Diagnosis

In the beginning there was no name for the soft slippery thing inside me — but it demanded to be held. Like a child that could...