Poetry

I’m fragile but not that Fragile

It’s been miles since

and still, little pink,
you shed amber

glow in my palm,
gurgle-chirp

in your cradle
of nebulous honey.

Vergil, Alone

It sings for me to reenter familiar steps. It calls my right hand

home under my katana’s guard and for my knees to bend as I wait

for the rhythm. It is a pity most never see the end of this dance.

Two Skyrim Poems

where is your blubber? it is colder here than you
in this nuclear winter untouched by sun, this liminal

territory peopled by animals, inhabited by blondes
and blue-eyes. you don’t see the history of predation: