The pots and pans of childhood stir me.
We made the heads of Styrofoam
so not to be too heavy on their frail necks.
Hearts? Simply-fashioned, from lumps of stone.
An exploration of the impact of literature about eating disorders on readers. TW: Discussion of eating disorders and self harm.
Finding them dead on returning from vacation,
she flushed her six African Cichlids.
We sing the songs filled with sadness,
Songs with lyrics written in silence
any blotched greenery has
the potential to burst
forth into flower.
Where cars lie dying
in Ligurian scrapyards
the Via Aurelia
travels slowly past
morning with no people, no cars
only today there are no people,
no cars. Today it’s weird, isn’t it?
Red shift Dark-moon cry of you half-him of you, starring backwards axe of you, mastered as youth Teeth of you biting down, tenderizing, sharpening if only for a night The many-fold you, thorns, garden, squall of you, intoxication Thief, the noble cat of you, insistent splinter The wild-world’s red eyes beating in you Me wrenched…
On the riverbank. In the corridor. In the
laugh ache. In the small hours. On the
station platform. In the stomach churn
on the way home.
you slid once more into my dreams
so real i woke and called your name
it was that hour so close to dawn
the world doesn’t know if it’s coming or going
The fluttering ribbon of blue
outside my window deepens
but holds fast to the birches.