My mother washed the day's black grime (landays)

Every night, from the edge of the tub,

My mother washed the day's black grime from her hard cracked heels

Every morning, she boiled new water

Kettles lined up to ferry the heat for Daddy's bath

The days pile deep inside the front door

Futures seep in through the eyes of the grubby mesh screens

I wash in flows of magic water

What does it matter to me whose belly I laugh with?

I cannot choose the feet I dance on.

Neither did she. I watched her from wakeup to breakdown

Borrowed soul (landays)

Mending my cloaks, hiding my bruises

I sat by the shores of my borrowed soul and noticed

Picking up what floated through my hands

All the lonelinesses in brightly colored bottles

So pretty in the graveyard sunshine

So see-through in my fingers, cradling the old truths

I sat with my soul in my two hands

Yodeling to heaven, knowing nothing, growing light

So quiet, the broken-wide soul shards

And in the earth I felt the drums of my foresisters

Dear survivor (ghazal)

What was the whispered word that crazed you?

Whose was the promise-tipped arrow that grazed you?

Carpets of birdsong. Lifetime of silence.

When was the last time pain amazed you?

Now in the unnumbered hours, tell me

Why all the hotheaded prophets praised you.

Safe in our cave of blankets and cushions

Speak: which was the final kindness that dazed you?

Your dog. Your guitar. Bitter whiskey. Old stories.

Where are the wounded wolves who raised you?

Fish in Silver Hallways

I am a fish in silver hallways

Terrifying to you, or terrifying to me?

There are so few questions left

I have sat with you around giant tables

I have eaten with you in the sand

I have played with your only children to keep them from burning

You close your eyes when you see me coming

Dig the holes I want to fall into

Break the old love knots I inherit

And I? I dance around your prairie fence

I turn my back to kiss your brothers

Toss my head to kiss the falling sky

Mend the arcing hoops as you throw them

There are so few meals left

And the children cannot know

There are so few rhymes left

And the fires must not reach them

I close my eyes when I see myself coming

Dig the holes I must fall into

Break the toys before I inherit, inherit, inherit

Look, the nametags are slipping off the handles

This is a place we have never been

The screen points fingers before we can hunt our playmates

We talk in opposite categories, saving it up for another year

We go dark in opposite nightcores

This is a place we have never been

Terrifying to you, or terrifying to me?

There are so few questions left