the margin is not the margin
to the margin / the central drone
trails a sound like a lawnmower
mowing down the sky / you look up
Read Morethe margin is not the margin
to the margin / the central drone
trails a sound like a lawnmower
mowing down the sky / you look up
Read MoreWe follow directions: spread a shallow bed of seeds
in my belly button, place plastic wrap layers over
my stomach, and lay my body out in sunlight.
Read MoreWe were stopped
at a red light, I was in the passenger seat,
and a guy crossing the street looked
at the Buick, then at us
Read MoreI heard something other than
the chattering of birds in the trees,
something like the hint of music
then plaster falling and the billow of gypsum
after your sister blows a hole in the ceiling
of your brother’s bedroom with the shotgun
he left loaded and resting on his dresser.
My disobedient body pierces the I
Music drifting landward hand in hand
The cafés have a kind
of tea that is just
the temperature and taste
of air breathed in summer
Men smoke on Hagwon-ga, eyeing
the dark borders of my body.
I’ve seen and Ginny, darling, I can no longer breathe. I got off
the interstate, cut through an industrial park, throbbing.
What were their names?
The ones who left us
willingly, stepped away
from our phone calls
We turn and ferret,
vengeful and assaulting.
Behind my eyes a lake of fire
Behind your head a birdless sky