We met, strangers at a local gallery,        in front of immaculate skies,  twenty pintos, manes flying    second to last light flung from canvas.     That

I hold her negative image between my fingertips. I study the X-ray of a face loved and hated many times– the alabaster dots replacing those

We had traveled all day and part of the night. Nashville, the midpoint— eight hundred miles behind us, eight hundred more to go. We were

She creeps up on you when you least expect it. You watch her waving you goodbye, rewind the moment in your head now and then,

I mustn’t force others to walk on egg shells around me As love turns back into friendship, sanity can’t fracture. I need time to process,

We cannot walk in meadows I kick aside rubble in the shelter. Shrapnel from incendiaries plays a piano tune on the outside walls. I think

As I studied your language I studied your body— your vowels and diphthongs, your consonant clusters which are famously difficult for us foreigners to pronounce.

And for you, I spill onto the grass a handful of crystal dust; it rises slow, shrouding the soft flesh. A shiver passes over the

it’s the first dream i’ve had of him in 199 days and in it, he forgets which isn’t half as good as an apology but

Name of person: you. Nature of bond: the form has no box for this. Duration: one summer, three monsoons, seven unfinished conversations, and one afternoon

It has been three months since we flopped around exclusivity– the day before Thanksgiving, rain beating against windshield in front of Station, Liberty Ave’s latest

Who is made of autobiography, in which I write           in one small place. The wounds of trinity narrowed, shrank. The bottle-capped word of pain because

You became the person my mind reached for first. Before happiness settled, before anger cooled, before heartbreaks found language, before I could even understand what

we agreed  was a better word than Odd we practiced  times-tables more certain than time itself than SPAM doubling as grainy crumbs of meatloaf we