After My Husband’s Hernia Surgery

His belly is rounded like
he’s just beginning to show

as if the healing
is its own being inside him.

I tie his shoes, kneel down
to find the

And at its core, it’s a book about candor and creation and intimacy and talking about things that often go unsaid.

She said she made boys fall in love with her. I said I was above her manipulations but I cried when she left. When she posted pictures with other guys I felt awful. I tried not to talk to her. Her messages came less and less until finally the feeling calloused.

i impart resonance on the amber zen
in a manifestation of waterford
and drink down the vacuity      to expedite
enlightenment:
a numb tongue and thawing cheek     and the ringing     reaching

As a baby dyke, I’d waded into sex and romance like a kid at a water park, slowly and then all at once. Now I was on the sidelines.

He’s from Modesto, which is clear without him telling everyone in his row and ours that he’s from Modesto. “Takes me only an hour to get here…because let’s just say…I don’t always drive the speed limit,” he says...

Twitter Prophecies

are sour wine.
You say don’t stop pap
smears after age 65.
Cervical cancer can
still happen at ninety.
I say paper boats
still sail the river Styx
home. The sky
is a

Let’s say you go to the beach.  And let’s say it’s on your own for the first time.  And let’s say you’re 13 and look 15.  Maybe 16.  And let’s say your mom doesn’t know you’re going alone, because Olivia was coming, but the little chickenshit went and told her mom, that stuck-up bitch from Scarsdale, who said why the hell does your father even bother paying for flute lessons? 

Half Brits, half Americans. Special Relationship Rule No. 1: Love thy neighbo(u)r.

On Penguins in Brooklyn

the protagonist feels like
she’s never leaving,
stuck on a moving walkway
in the middle of cincinnati
international airport
in kentucky,
headphones dangling,
she

Two months in, we began to confide our secrets to each other. Her early brush with benzos. My peer-pressure-prone passivity.

Equivalence

How heartbreaking to find irises tilting
to full bloom in one direction
as if waiting for someone to come
down their path are one symptom
of light’s partiality. A heart

To our right, I feel the cool breath of a gaping canyon. It beckons, invisible behind the wall of fog, its voice the skid of tires on gravel.

montreal

baked brick, dark bread,
breath sinking into a hot, grey bath when
caught in smoke between compartments
on the metro. pink lights from
the townhouse on rue de rushbrooke
blinking away

Once the coffee cooled I took a sip and said, Not bad for McDonald's coffee.

And he said, It really is a good cup of coffee. Wherever you go, you can always depend on McDonald's for a good cup of coffee.

And I thought, McDonald's coffee is trash.

September Dream

An eternity, for the Asphodel, is a brief few
months. It’s been a decade, as the crow flies,

ten days on Venus, ten Venus days,
each, longer than a year.

When I’m without

I get too drunk on a Tuesday night and tell him I want to marry him. We’ve known each other for six years.

I’ve become a puddle on the floor everyone dances around, stares at, hoping to see something.

And if memoirs allow us to relive the past, novels give us a chance to change it.

I WANT TO THANK YOU

for unbottling my aged Mandarin with each 晚安 / for cooking me these sardines / strewn on a
beach of rice, their eyes still intact / I want to thank you / for carrying that

You roamed in like a chuckling bear into my house of beakers, graduated cylinders, round bottom flasks, you asked to borrow an Erlenmeyer, here you go, I said, thought you were just a clumsy animal, afraid you'd break something of mine, pushed you out of the lab and you came back bearing M&M's in a petri dish, half of them a mess of Blue No. 2

I pledged to him two things: one, that I would hex the ones that hurt him, and two, that I would write him poetry.

I’ll Always Make Love to the Mississippi.

We bruised
my knees on the bluff.

I’ve disappeared into the current
of loving nothing
but tainted water lapping against rotten fish
against a rocky

When They Let Them Bleed: Ten Years After

It took me a long time to write “When They Let Them Bleed” – both in the practical sense, in that I recall writing it in very short bursts because it was

They whispered wow wow wow wow in wind that might've just toppled them over; they whooped; they swapped interlocked arms for tightly-squeezed hands and back again.