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Poetry

Letter

The upright scrawl of leaf cleaving last to the fig tree I mistake each daybreak for the bird-messenger, the one which I am sure will come flare the mouth of morning.
October 12, 2021
Poetry

Invasive Species

They are not native, the Queen Anne's Lace, chicory, and birdsfoot trefoil that add so much to the country drive, as they wave back and from from the shoulder of the road.
October 5, 2021
Poetry

Fire and Rain

This rain, which falls so lovingly not too hard, not too soft, on leaves and grass and on itself in puddles, should fall on my beloved sister, whose dry forests are in flame.
October 5, 2021
Poetry

Godbaby

We say "He" without a name to speak of you, hear our own sounds echoed back from far away in the monitor's shush and fuzz.
September 28, 2021
Poetry

Overboard

Ready to swallow the fallen, the sea swells. "The waters want me," Jonah cries, running, running, always running away.
September 21, 2021
Poetry

The Name

I promise not to miss this gift—helleborus—poisonous kin of buttercups that bloom all year.
September 14, 2021