First Morning
first morning together/he asks for/sugar
December 2022
Self-Portrait of A Sinking Orphan
i find my mother’s sun-dried/face plastered against the windows–/she looks as foreign as the language/of my grief and the absence of/her skin and my faith
I Piss in a Bedpan
Doctors call me: I answer/If I love you: it’s straight to voice mail
Tired of Being an Estuary
lay one/single finger, &/i’ll scream until negative/space holds itself in wait