The Days Are Long Where She Lives

The days are long where she lives
in the dark eye of longitude, her
inner mass to fly as tricks delivered
behind the performance, springs
as gracious undoing’s, dutiful

I’m Done With This Grieving

We watched you die on a blue-sky morning as children played ball outside your hospital window and tubes in your arms sucked your veins until they were black and blue and your blood pressure dropped to zero.

yr death, mama dear

releases the pain / of sight/the gnawed moss / of stars/the pleats / of our irish/indian blood. / at night

Ashes On Foam

He kept you in a box and forgot to tell us / you came back alive when he dreamed / you kissed him, you in death, he just before / he died, not seeing his own death on your lips, / parting.