I ask again,
Does the moon opt
To shine differently on
Those who are born elsewhere
call it an extermination campaign
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Read MoreA - Ariel. Angpao. Apples plucked straight from cartoons, vivid and perfect…
Read MoreYou were in line at the grocery store and you all were talking about the price of eggs
It was early evening and already dark outside with heavy snow clouds
The polar vortex preparing its second onslaught
Me—I’m the woman with medicine in her voice,
a forest bather mating like a corpse plant, melting into time,
floating toward a twelfth life like a trumpeter swan.
Is there – in your half-sized bed –
room for one more body
if we press close in the basement’s dark,
too scared to touch each other,
too lonely not to,
satisfied just to hear each other breathe?