You light me up like arsenicon the teeth, sparks on slate,rising like the sun. Dawn bredthe start, like an epic. Like a house,we rose it. Wings on a moth,we moved closer. Strong as an oak, sparks – slight static – ignite mothsflying too close to the light of my house.Like that, I am attracted to you. …
Oh, but sing! I have saved another beetle. And a bumblebee, and two inchworms. Ryan and I try to climb the gnarled spruce, The one with the bulbous knot halfway up. It’s sticky. We pretend the sap will hold our palms. Oh, but look. We plant seeds under the swingset in the dirt. On top …
The ingá tree drips pods like water running down its arms. At night, the moths lick the clothesline. In the school one town over, the children learn that people drink hot chocolate in the winter (inverno) in the United States (Estados Unidos) where there is also snow (neve). Rainy season falls out the window because …
In winter, the wharf turns quiet and still. Tired couples walk strollers as ice snaps And the elderly make tea with rose hips. School buses follow the coast and turn orange In the sharp sunrise. And I can hear horses, That quiet way the estuary shifts and steams. I sit at Cynthia’s table and watch …
Last spring I worked on a collection of poetry about my hometown. Here is the preface and a few poems. This is their public debut – hope you enjoy. —- Ipswich, Massachusetts, was founded in 1634 by John Winthrop’s son. This is the story I know: John Winthrop (who founded Boston) wanted to create “a …
The emails start with “thank you,” and the gratitude comes from knowing I don’t need to open them to see what’s inside, until when inevitably I do I look only for the word “unfortunately”:
Sestinas are one of my favorite types of poems because they are absolutely wacky and have an absurd number of strict rules. These include: 1) six stanzas, six lines each, with one final triplet, 2) each stanza has the same six words at the end of their six lines, 3) the order of these end …