My Poems

the water finds a way
though winter is so hard
and the ice is thick and rigid

imagine we never met
and you were bagging my shit
at the grocery store

i hear radio flowing from leather-brown couch crevice

There’s photos of you that don’t show
all that time I spent averting my eyes

who cares
what my name is,
but here’s my last meal—

when you sang
at the funeral

I realized today that you grow warm at heart when you are asked to stay.

I go to church Saturday night.

AND THEN–

I will lay in your bed, loving you–
until you are called to Sunday church

how did we get here?

There should be a fee for the pleasure
of being here, with you.

in the brick-shaped building
near the 77’s last stop

Jesse wears a blue mask, but I don’t care what their face looks like.