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"My rusted radishes, mud-caked
in their baskets, beckon yellow jackets
that duly thrum the stamen of four
o’ clocks. They pollinate while I prepare
for a season of pickling, of blanching in Ball jars."
Read the full poem here, at Barren Magazine.
"Emerge to you still lying on saline-
sodden linen: the tear-stained white sheet
of our child’s ghost costume, unworn.
This year, there will be no tricks or treats."
Read the full poem here, at Electric Moon Magazine.
"Our conversations:
teeth grinding
in a blender, a callus
peeled back, a blister
needing cleaned.
We showered
together
for the first time
(clothed)."
Read the full poem here, at Picaroon Poetry.
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