She rose from the floor like a stalagmite, an icicle staring crystals at me. I remembered every snowflake was unique, and that this coldness was only similar to the others that separated us, monoid fractals of intricate perimeter.
every happy family is warm.
every unhappy family is
cold in its own way.
Cold. That this frigidity was natural, not freon, made it hurt still more. I numbed and sank within myself. Alone, I fancied myself whole and warm. Heat rose from me like a Hawaiian island. I had become a geothermal vent, heating an artist’s garret, sparrows, and a topography of ferns. I soon became hydrogen, fusing to helium in the sun; I evaporated the infinite snow and the ice of her gaze. I was the water cycle, rising, condensing, immense as a hurricane, gentle as dew. I was salt, the origin of tears, the panacea of fear, and she was still cold.
From #specialcharacters, now available from Amazon and Unlikely Books.
- ► 2017 (69)
- ► 2016 (151)
- ► 2015 (62)
- The Girl @theParisReview Says Uncool
- Happy World Poetry Day!
- désolé de ne pas être avec vous (for Vladimir Nabo...
- Phase Change
- Kimberly Rae Lorenz-Copeland interviews me about #...
- Father of a Ghost (after Stephen Dedalus's Theory ...
- A Night of Sirens: Benefit for Made by Survivors a...
- Jamas Volveré
- Death of a Reader
- Reactions to Larissa Shmailo's new poetry collect...
- Reading at Hot Pillow, Seattle AWP: The Other Woma...
- Boston launch of my new collection, #specialcharac...
- My Foreword to Shadows of the Future: An Otherstre...
- ▼ March (16)
- ► 2013 (27)
- ► 2012 (32)
- ► 2008 (15)