Sonnet for my new name
Did you wait for mein the riverbed, undera smooth stone?Did I have to earn you,like a Chicago summer?A seed sproutingin harsh conditions?Stand in a long linefull of crossed fingers,all the whileyou lit up the marquee.Can I keep you?When they callyou, will I turn my head?
Tove’s Cento: Childhood
Childhood is long and narrow like a coffin,and you can’t get out of iton your own. None of the grownups can standthe song in my heart or the garlands of wordsin my soul. You can’t tell by looking at themthat they’ve had a childhood, and you don’t dare askhow they’ve managed to make it throughwithout their faces getting deeply scarredor marked by it. I think my mother is fantasticallybeautiful because she has no sense of having abandonedme. I imagine a…
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The American Poetry Review (Digital) - 1 Issue, May/June 2024