poem: come like death

come like death unto my sex—I would take your eyelash in my—stomach as the light heaves down over blue taunt hills as sheets well up in my—fingers like glass the cracking of your breath along my legs the cracking of my rosary on the hospital—floor fallen like a child’s fingernails— the fingernails dimpling— into my… Continue reading poem: come like death

first poem: the last pavilion

Even the cutting is in place and the lattice constrains her like a corset like white hands among white satin tying her hair up for the providence ball; and later, uglier hands untying the same ice curls for the providence music in the dark Still, she is the rose garden even with this music, even… Continue reading first poem: the last pavilion