This is what you are
missing Melissa – dust turned to wavesin the desert – okra coming up two monthstoo late – a forward breaking gate openinginto someone else’s field – I walk bya window and I do not understand how little I seeyou – but so clearly the wasp backing outof a hole inside a long deadtree – when we were children we livedwith our grandparents and I remember withoutsadness mostly the sound of tires screaming intothe street – the porchlight welcomeswhatever intercepts it – I praiseinsistence – I kissmy love because our best friend diedwhen we were 5 years old – a brain tumor –and then again at 7, 11, 17… 43 – bodieskilling themselves by growingbeyond their own capacity – I am buildinga bed for our visitors –…
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The American Poetry Review (Digital) - 1 Issue, May/June 2019