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Excerpt from The Loch Ness Monster is a Widowed Time Traveler
Give us something hopeful among the bluesy
newsflashes & flash floods & earthquakes
& flashlights during power outages & wildfires
ravaging cities to ashes to ashes to ashes. . . .
Birthing Age
I chip my front tooth in midwinter / chewing on chapped lips. Run my tongue / along the rough edge, feel a point, / an icicle. Cold rain’s coming down. / The day has only just begun and already /
my body has managed to hurt itself, / break off a little piece and swallow. . . .