A few hours later, you were trying to rebuke grief. You smiled, leg-working, lori iro…
Had I become a roaming syringe deployed by the federal government to inject pregnancies?
Late at night making love, peignoir
& a glaciated window, you touched me everywhere
In my secondary school days, in every one of my classes, there was always a classmate who would die.
In this poem, i remain a dog, barking at the unseen in the middle of the night,
Measuring its agitations by a quadratic formula…