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Monthly Archives: May 2018
difficult things
It is a difficult thing to
do,
reading poems
about abortions.
Climbing out of the pit,
I talk to you at night.
But what do I know about death and dying?
the glass essay
“I”
I can hear little clicks inside my dream.
Night drips its silver tap
down the back.
At 4 A.M. I wake. Thinking
of the man who
left in September.
His name was Law.
My face in the bathroom mirror
has white streaks down it.
I rinse the face and return to bed.
Tomorrow I am going to visit my mother.
alone but moving
“alone but moving
all I really need
alone but moving
good enough for me”
