Making the fire Each morning I’d get up and make the fire – a pocket-money job , and yet one I enjoyed. The house was still and cold. ...

Quietus Airborne leaves, twigs and branches buffeted my car. Rain and hailstones lashed my screen splashed curses, You’ll fail, you’ll...

Fingers Undressing you without caressing you, they’re fumbling while unbuttoning a black cameo appliquéd new Prussian blue dress. Chest...

Overflow i. the first time my period comes, it starts in my knees- a tender, shivering ache that travels to my lower back, to the...

Long ago, it must be long ago, I have a photograph. The crevasse- wringled The winds of it. Died with it. There. Years ago, so much...

I come from a country mistaken for Spain, although just as passionate, we’re not as famous. We sound Russian to some, or we speak...

Mouths of Flowers I want to publish a book filled with poems that you can’t read you will have to touch them you will have to breathe...