poem: cold war in the fridge and reheated

thirty day poetry challengeday 05– ‘leftovers‘ am I supposed to relate to the third-child motherstanding on the porch with her vaginaon the flagpole and a joint fuckedinto her mouth like a second-smile, the smokesagging through her -- she is Americanmyth; at least during the Depressionshe probably believed in God and sold her childrenwith some feeling,…

writing: the holiday girl

not all of the following makes sense, really, but I'm publishing it anyway. call it "writing practice" and read at your own risk. "The meaning of literature" is something I think about often, especially after fucking, when my boyfriend has rolled away to stare at a book and I stare at the wall. I know…

poem: crying after a fight with my mother, twenty-twenty

in the autumn far-awayi read a portrait of the artist as a young manunder the trees, under the universityand i was notthe drama, the failure. waitingoutside the daycare, an after-somethingjob for the boring, earbuds and trite tragicmusic wrapped around my skull. i stayed very latein cafes, no-whip-cafe-mochaand scholarship questions, dreaminghopelessly and i — droppedthe history…