There are men in my house today
They unload glass panes and aluminum
frames, ladders, saws, crowbars and
lime-coloured insulation, some

I am the daughter who left
Old parents planting seeds of
Stay
I partitioned their country
And placed a border between us

Wind swells the trees rain scratches at the night sullen as an unhappy woman irritated at being ignored until lightning unzips the air impatient to get naked sparks fly Zeus  [More…]

Tree branches touching
in the breeze of autumn:
to have known you this way
is no less touching
for its randomness, its
avolitional

All dark long drafting in bed,
I scratch my longing down your shoulder blades—

Your dual-purpose back, a dry erase board,
upraises pink wherever I touch it.

Mark a wild garden. A map you read
each morning in the mirror.
A hidden-in-skin compass: rose lines & needles,

Let soldiers stand for violence.
Let the suburbs stand for childhood.
Let paella stand for love.
Let zero stand for death.