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Altar
Let’s make a little altar here from the things that we collected while we walked. Let’s make a little altar from the broken sticks, the colored leaves, the tiny stones that pressed between our palms like everything. Let’s make a little altar from the love notes and the bits of songs the promises and tears…
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2016
Funny all the cracks that made your surface interesting, once upon a time have filled in now with dirt and grime and no amount of scrubbing can restore them Leonard Cohen left us blissful mirror-gazing at each other, dancing long and slow, until the end until the end and we were cavernous, and gaunt like…
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Mourning Dove
I found him at the top of the stairs without a head. It was a clean break, no sign that it had ever been there and though his face was gone his body lay in a pose of accusation making me the guilty one. I wrapped him in brown paper and threw him into the…
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Time Capsule
Everything else of significance will fit in your palm, tarnished and worn…
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Mid January three something indecent deity
There are ghosts in every corner Tapping holes into their faces with their Broken fingernails This is a place where when the stars come down They change their course and keep The sideways dark Look out the light Will make you blind And the holes keep growing bigger The skin around the edges chapped and…
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Elegy for a Failed Killer
His hand on the back of my neck makes everything you are irrelevant.
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Vintage Christmas
I have paid a thousand hours penance for her spun silk hair and faded blue eyes sliced my voice on the shattered glass of fragile Christmas bulbs golden stars and sparkling orbs, blue and red and green and touched with glitter in the center of something plastic, the holy parents pray over the lifeless molded…
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In Spring
In the spring, when everything began to grow, we sat in a field of green and yellow spinning dreams about the future. Yours was set in stone, and I was there Mine was outer space and I was waving at you far below, a thousand miles away. In the spring, when everything began to grow,…
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January 31 2015
In my trunk there is a photograph of me at age fifteen, one of my daughter at three, and my grandma’s cookie jar. There is a bag on the seat next to me with bits and pieces of her life taken from her bedroom. I haven’t looked inside but I reached in and felt a…
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Stench
Early morning, waking alone in the cluttered nest you built the stench of last year’s sheets and last night’s desperation turn your stomach and the water on the bedside stand is gone, the glass left empty by the stranger who crept over you shameful in your flaccid state saliva like a spider’s web, linking you…