all my words are fingerprints
& ankles in the sand, the Atlantic,
broken wind,

& I’m in bed, awake, sleeping,
blue light, wake me up, do not
disturb, I wait, I heave, I heave,
I breathe, I dream

of waking up, a clump of silver dress
entrenched in my palm



an engine hums softly,
whirring. & the artificial black
stillness of fluorescent light

eyes that glint like shoeshine
activate the lives
of specks & lint


there is no future:
just you & I, hands interlocked,
a knit pretzel woven lover
& apprentice, each knot a
finger-printed window
to fields which rise
like pancakes in heat &
left cold on the table, uneaten


(originally published in Hermes Poetry Journal, Issue Two, 12/1/14)



Motion is sweat
peeling from
a man’s hand.
Time is a vicious
roar at zero:

we pivot when we miss
our daughters’ first words
for obsessed strangers,
who want what we project
so they can react.


(Originally published in if&when, December 2014)