Two Poems

Two Poems

  Her Terms Sonja didn’t speak when she saw the uniforms through the screen door’s tear. They said her full name. She slapped the door shut, locked it and every window down so tight they left without putting up a fight; just shouted his name until she rapped back...
Hopper’s People: Gas

Hopper’s People: Gas

  So many dusks have piled up here, identical blurs, collected like discarded cans of used motor oil. This is a landscape where you might expect something startling to occur at civilization’s last outpost before the frontier— a spaceship to appear overhead, a...
My Love Sent Me a List

My Love Sent Me a List

O my Love sent me a lusty list, Did not compare me to a summer’s day Wrote not the beauty of mine eyes But catalogued in a pretty detailed And comprehensive way the way(s) In which he was better than me. “More capable of extra- and intra- Polation. More...
The Devil’s Passkey

The Devil’s Passkey

The shoe poised on the tip of my toe was a lure. Even directors important as Von Stroheim want to be hunted. You there (eyeing my ankle, my nearly exposed foot), you can dance? I nodded. We may let the camera see all of you. And like that I became foreground,...
Boston Public

Boston Public

She found a slim volume discarded or left behind on a bench near Fanueil Hall as we sat to eat our Thai takeout (but not for long because the whole area smelled like piss even though it was pretty and clean and shaded by tall trees) entitled: SOLV-A-CRIME PUZZLES...