Poetry: Desire

People tell me that I’m so strongthat they would instantly foldunderneath the pressurebut how do they not seethe creases, the linesscreaming for a day of restto sleep completely undisturbedand have the chanceto unfold. This skin—my skin always cravesendless nightsanother opportunityto dream.

Poetry: Still; Praying

I am always lookingat a portrait of youdrawn or photographedsmiling down at me Most days I still find youalive and well in this roomeither catching your breathor dancing along to a melody in your headas I watch from the hallwaywith both hands claspedin a fervent prayer Even now I plead with Godwith the same requestthat

Notes from the Sea

Don on your seafoam green dress anddance like nobody’s watching. Push andpull like the tide until you wash completelyover me. Make me believe in the mysteriesfound offshore and just below the surfacewhere light barely touches.Take away every bubble of oxygenI have left—I do not mind being breathless,floating in the palm of your hand, the only

When I Think About the Moon

Again I am talking about themoon and how it riseswithout fail into the darkness andwithout fear just toshine, to guide, to remindus that we are notalone.

What the Moon Says in My Place

I would like to believe that space is notsome soundless void where nothingnessengulfs the senses. Stars sizzle, planetsmake the sound of a spinning top, the moonhums all of her space children to sleep ina whisper that lingers on the verytip of her tongue in a languagewe are all used to. She is saying:Come, sweet moonchild,stay