“Untangling”
The mother finds joy in untangling The necklaces. She pulls the silver strands, Unbraiding gently, as if it is her Young daughter’s hair after a day Outdoors. Time is of little importance: […]
“Poetry and Postulancy”
We are not all meant for meter, she says. Still, you try on order like a vestment; Long, sober, and reliable, it fits, Or doesn’t—it maddens you like slant rhyme, Like prayers that impossibly find a home Inside the swollen hours of weekdays. […]
“The Art of Loving”
The art of loving might look like a bard’s Familiar ballad, playful yet precise— All fingers dancing, never strained by self Or hesitation, fret to joyful fret, A perfect, reckless, troubadour’s delight, Like friends who wonder at the firmament’s Vast steadiness, how it remains the same, Yet never ceases to draw our eyes up. [...]