From “Acid Rain”
…devoid of the yellow jackets that normally
pierced
my feet, as I danced a rhythm of thunder
beneath the sky lightning.
From “Acid Rain”
…devoid of the yellow jackets that normally
pierced
my feet, as I danced a rhythm of thunder
beneath the sky lightning.
From “Burns”
Your skin chills,
snow seeps,
scrapes down your ankle,
searing skin that forgot
how the arctic burned
when it met warm flesh.
Excerpt from “Dust”
I don’t know where
these pieces fit,
or if they are even mine,
but I feel they are,
whether they are all with me,
clinging to my body
or still behind in that box
that remains unopened in the corner
marked kitchen goods.
Excerpt from “The Fragments You Carry”
The box remains to pick up
the rest of your things:
the permanent markers,
the bottle of Tylenol,
the loose change,
the card from a friend wishing you a safe journey,
the receipt from your favorite pho restaurant
and the cheap vodka you had last night.