The Young Ones
I’d waited for him to come to my side of the room, had been pretending to admire, for too long, something that looked as though it had once been Apollo and Daphne but was now melting like hot wax.
In the Long Grass
Surreal moment, this: a roo lounging on a road in the middle of the day, a horseshoe of people staring down at him like he’s some sort of a prophet—or an omen.
In a Dream I Speak Perfect Mandarin
vague shape of a person, perhaps made up
of broken seashells : the sound of fractured edges toned
FISH
He hovers over her, like Goldie after Kurt, as she floats and undulates in her half-dreams, me staring out the window, wondering if the fish might be dying rather than giving birth.
Domestic Realism
my mother married a willow tree on a hilltop, sat under its boughs through four decades of rain in a day
Corsage
Sideways glances at others who are doing it better: crisp black ties, polish on their shoes, the right moves.
anti-ode to the heart
cocoons, tent worms eating the world
just to be reborn, inseparable from the smoke
Sugarloaf
Horses and earth are just different shades of each other, and we start to disappear, all of us, into the thickets of leaf and shadow.
The Florida Museum of Natural History
There’s a swing to Jessica’s step that reminds me of nights spent in a cloud of citronella, chasing lizards through my backyard.
The Right Magic
I’ll meet all the fairies, and we’ll have tiny tea parties and I’ll wear tiny dresses and use my tiny wings to fly.