Poetry

last summer of innocence

there was Noella who knew I was sweetbut cared enough to bother with me that summer when nobody diedexcept for boys from other schools but not us, for which our motherslifted his holy name & even let us skip some Sundays to go to the parkor be where we had no business being talking to …

Catch

I worked at a residential mental health facility for children. I was part of the Native American unit that mostly managed Indian children. Resident Adam, 16, was from the Klamath/Modoc tribe. His father was in prison, mother was an active substance abuser. Meth. Adam lived with his grandparents until he started alcohol and marijuana and …

Between Practice

1. Afternoons in Florida while my favorite jocular jockish cousin suffered summer school, I climbed the tall hot fence of the elementary school behind his house to practice layups and dream of dunks. 2. I was 13, my mother was on a Caribbean cruise ship in a state of longing, her husband was on a …

Race/Race

stock    strain    family    line breed   blood   skin   shape of the head  of the pack animal    human    judge  better   fitter   swiftly to find   foot   horse   car   run for your life   around town   the block   the camp  to the top   the finish   contend compete   in   for   against the other   the not so great   not even in …

This Black Southern Poor Boy’s Blues

I’m no choir boy, nopreacher’s son. Fasting is never doneon purpose. Gin or thighs helps me sleepand both make me forget me for a moment.Most nights she tells me she loves me,others blanket us in silence, when even our orgasmsdon’t speak. I like Saturday night fixes,whatever Johnny brings back from New York City. I’m no …

luam & the flies

umbertide, asmera, new york, october, 2013 It was the end of the world.The world was ending. I sat in my house with the flies. Thoughthe night was dense, was long, we tried to wait for light, to last.But the wind at the doors. & darkness knuckled, flashed its teeth.Outside, the other houses, outside, the solitaryfield, …

Elegy for My Mother’s Mind

When I steady your step on the stairs, you ask not once but twicewhere we’re going—to the car, to the store, Mom, remember? You laugh and say you thought we’d be walking and we are,right into the part of your brain where you’ll lose me, lose the child who picked all 43 tulips you waited …

To a Rosh Hashanah Challah

Sweet   bread, stern in youreternal roundness, I sneak piecesof your crust at midnight— for isn’t yours the sacredcircle that we want for asweet new year? The baker infused youwith honey to make us happy,& maybe her kitchen miracle will work: sugar the bitter, renewour sour apples in an orchardthat greens the table. Sweet challah, you’re …

Dove

bichwa ke mare ordhniya ke torde,tohar najariya jaherile jaherile. A scorpion stings me, its toxins swim my veins,one ill prick from you and I writhe in your fever. I dream I cough up a songbird I release to the sky,you board a plane to take you across the desert. I will tie messages to the …