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Poems

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  • The Last Widow | The Last Mirror

    The last widow misses men. The last widow misses her husband

  • grief being a swatch of blue & grief being that song from childhood & grief being a pitched tent

    a rectangle in an unborn son’s room

  • The Color I Take

    All day the green had soaked me

  • Paper

    Damned if I’ll be the woman who collects mass produced throw pillows counts her

  • Two Fat Braids Crossed at the Crown

    Mishearing you holding out the gadget plug,

  • Three Poems

    My fingers grow white with winter, blood

  • LIMESTONE GHAZAL

    My windowsill’s lined with fossils, whorled limestone

  • Getting Old, Thinking of Keats

    Even though I’m old now

  • Paradise

    Our little vacation town in Spain is packed.  The driving, slow. Things have changed

  • Three Poems

    I never saw the children who lived next door,

  • Natural History of the Soul

    The song thrush hops, runs, stands,

  • Annie Fitch’s Duck Sauce

    I must be prepared to sit