poem: stay-at-home woman

do you remember the red telephone, sitting like a silent cat, renovating the hall with its small plastic face? i watched you leave, the first day, and then i called my mother. the baby was twisting like an almond, a sliver in my ocean-split stomach; i put my hands over my mouth so she wouldn’t…

poem: matrimonium

for very small moments my life is beautiful. there is Paris in a mason-jar, girls kissing boys on the sidewalk, rain coming like piano jazz. the baby is crying for me, lisping Maman Maman; he is like his father. And we were like staccato-ed beats: small carnivals of mirth, small hollows in the neck, your…

poem: dear 2018

shall i tell you of my womanhood and the unpopular things that leave me sitting alone at parties, the 1960's splashed angrily in my face, and my hands now wet with mascara tears. but i am still not going to graduate school and i still don't want my entire life boxed into a career. i…