“Are you nervous?” she asked, and I answered: “Yes, very.”
I don’t think of the faces in the soil,
or the oranges in my pockets, ripe
and bright as the storm.
She, a feeling, dries her tears, when it arrives. Puddle-lashes: foreign as, We cannot go back.We cannot return to the Grunge.
Magnolia portoricensis, evergreen sending seeds
all over america. All throughout the city a million
children think they know their names.
My antlered brother, mom
won’t sell the house so you can
have a landmark.
Ha finds Pipi Longstockings
In a black and white pothole. She runs. Gets a tin can, then scoops herself out.
How I have only witnessed white
women die & return to haunt as ghosts. How ghosts can only