Waning Half

My sister cried each month when she bled splayed naked on the bathroom floor vomiting; great heaves in the porcelain bowl shaking violently—each vertebrae resounding in snakelike shivers beneath ivory skin expelling womanhood like it would kill her not to, like she might crawl out of her flesh a seizing spine lunging forth with the…Read more »

Sap and Scripture

I haven’t seen perfect hands except wrapped around the hickory in the yard. I spread feed at the base and built a sanctuary; I knelt I prayed for perfect hands to hold my world with sacrificed flora before it could seed I built an altar at the base of our hickory miles from anything but…Read more »

The Bard At Night

You were loud as the moon words echoing through half-light -a gaping chasm of nearly pitch black. Your laugh struck me like leaves in autumn, auburn stains, pristine pointed edges for weeks, until you could melt into the earth, washed away with old papers or a memory or a bit of rain. Silver-skinned and long…Read more »

Four Winds

I met a woman and she was the eye of a storm. The storm was ruthless, slapped the sea with open palms screamed titan winds and flooded me and you. But she was calm there at the center of everything not a hint of a smile on her omnipotent mouth. And in an empty, stoic…Read more »

A Forest: Unwooded

Have you ever met a woman like hickory? Slender hands touch the sun and she can’t think of earthly things. She can sway without lifting root bear the sky without shrugging standing somber among the felled she can stare – cold – browned autumn eyes fall, jarring the boldest men quaking the stillest earth.