The Pattern
In the living room my mother can’t sleep. Past midnight, reading a magazine, she eats her way to the bottom of the plate. A swirl of lithium carbonate has…
Resurget Cineribus1
A fire in the middle of the night, my head whipping back to watch the embers warp the black. A light, neither epiphany nor end. In childhood I’d don…
Children’s
Each door assigned & your name written above the furl of Batman’s cape & a long hall where cells split & not with grace & another sign reading stay…
The Sea, Cornwall
…the sea has nothing to give but a well excavated grave. —Marianne Moore What you first see are the chimney stacks, the moss-covered roofs and then the crosses…
Returning to Belfast
Two blackbirds cross the motorway to the east. Gorse like saffron, patching up the side of the hill. Darkest green clusters are of heather, sedge. Brown stains where the…
After the Eruption
I walked out beyond the asphalt and the riprap fill behind the beige and gray machine shops, past the brook muscling through growth rife from golf-course effluent and on…
A Bouquet for J
Long ago—when measured by a single life— On a typewriter, and owing to the kindness of your Nature, you wrote a letter (from your Brookline Garret’s desk) that traveled,…
Taking Sam Cornish for Meatloaf Near Park Street Stop
In a breath that slips through a tiny door inside the leaves, we talk about the necessity of gravy, as if it’s the vote for higher minimum wage for…
Dusk, Empire
A red-tailed hawk in its coat of folded wings perches on the peak of my neighbor’s roof, in its talons the clasped prey, some mammal or other—some pest one…