When I run my fingers the wrong way down stalks of grass, they catch on the whorl of me. The world, it itches in me too, and the doctors…

  A pair of boys in rubber boots linger behind their group, mesmerized by the promise of half-opened things—clamshells hanging tenuously together, moon snails hiding fleshy feet. When they bore…

  Don’t be afraid. I won’t rouse him. I was just dreaming of a long drive. He let me out to run in a forest of juniper and pinion. The…

  Possible responses include: vague extended apologies for my comfort or my government, details of dystopian nightmares complete with sharp rusted metal and unbroken screams, below-the-desk nuclear-winter fears from seventh…

  There’s no running from our sorrow . . . from his grip, as he drags us into the nearest war. No running from his fingers, molding us like snowballs…

  Don’t rub me wrong, I season, I sting, cause tears, I am made from tears, taste of sorrow craved. Do not rub me into wounds, don’t love me too…

  We walk with a hunch. Women with loose jaws, big thighs and sharp beaks. We walk complete. We put Parachute oil in our hair and rub Zandu Balm on…

  Let’s say you wake up unhaunted seeing everything in your home Sun cracks your curtains from just the right angle Every floorboard is perfectly clean you can’t find anything…

  Point of order, Emily has caught up with the last five years of Emily poems. She spent the last four months reading at least sixty poems where she is…

  I’m on fire for being whatever she wants Ohio to be. I ran out of money in the first Ohio. So, I’m going to have to learn another way…

  When I first looked I felt buoyed—the white mass a midline, a belly, an open heart, a delicate basket, bellows expanded, or I saw a dancing figure at the…

  We fished at the Florida cattle pond for green-tinted bass— buzz baits skittered along the lily pads before the heat arrived. My father held to his corner. I circled…