Putting Food By

Putting Food By

  The achingly red Roma tomatoes fill the bleached porcelain sink like the bulbous detritus of summer. The remnants of seed and skin collide and float broken and hollow. The women work, cut, seed, and trim, with tanned and muscled hands: those of sewing, knitting;...
The Somnambulist

The Somnambulist

  Past the coffee table, its treacherous corners; around the hushed ottoman; pause in front of the flickering flat screen as if I’d stepped right out of it. My family gapes. Past lamps and ficus, my swerves precise, my balance impeccable. I’m on a mission yet to be...
Three Poems

Three Poems

Appalachian Fracking Prayer A quiet to these fields we called our place, could almost hear the springs refeeding ponds, fracked and gone with the deer and fox and grouse thanks to the drilling’s thunder in the ground. Now faucets leak a punky methane smell and fears...
Changes

Changes

  The river changed course By three feet. Thus the willow withers from thirst. Thus the rock is set alone like an altar. Thus the grassy hill browns. One father changes course By several streets. He gets away from family. He gets away from divorced his spouse. He gets...
Dust

Dust

  How many little lives in between my fingernails, how many layers of sod, of seed? This cold grass is all corpse and it’s only six o’clock in the evening. At the group home, I’ll spoon green beans and strained peaches into my grandfather’s...
Two Poems

Two Poems

  Heat/Stroke Crawled. I                 crawled. Knees and palms.                                                                 Concrete scratching my fingertips.                                 My heart’s heat a rotten star...
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