You’re getting older. I can see it now lying in your bed, my reflection warped in a makeshift drinking glass. I can’t know how many...

Overripe mangoes melt in wicker baskets strays sip from sprinkler head pools Nothing’s too pristine not the buildings or their...

It is Good Friday. We are sad and quiet and dark. In the midst of knees swollen from kneeling, standing, kneeling again approach altar...

just me in that endless house wandering through cold hallways up wide wooden steps there were ghosts in the back bedroom soft purple...

Under the moon, I shovel soil and sand with my hands. I claw. I consume with an arch in my back. I swallow the ground that buried you...

Through the infinite back door of my grandparents’ house, I remember believing in the sanctuary of stuff—the eternally cluttered— that it...

This is a story of destruction. I remember feeling like I was floating eternally when you said goodbye. Sailing in a state of oblivion I...

I don’t go to church like I used to. The tabernacle is locked and the pews are dusty with the dead skin and hair follicles of what I once...

On the ride to the cemetery, winter had returned again, and our skin remembered its trauma through the open car windows. Your eyes opened...