Poetry

Two Poems

fairytale posing as apocalypse
what would a queer story be
without fungus-wearing flesh eaters,
bashing in the heads of civilians

Catherine (with a “C”)

catherine has never met a coward that she was too afraid to love / and when
she says “love,” she means lose / and when she says “lose,” she means
misplaced, open-mouth / chewed up penalties / places bets on boundaries /

& the everblossom withers

a father whose care
always depended on
how well you swung
a blade. a long-dead
mother. this country –
with all her craggy rocks
and poisoned waters –
she will never love you.

Four Poems

Somewhere worth bringing you home to
is the most I can ask. I thought we’d never
have a house with bread or wine again, gold

grain littered against the skyline, but we’ve come
so far for it. We’ve cut across this place in pickaxe
scars and stakewalls, stumps left like stray hairs

Katamari Daddy

Every tiny paperclip cuts
a little as I roll. I thumbtack my duty
to daddy, learning to say yes, collect
every common desire. Zigzagging
through rooms, I am his invisible
dreaming, a shining sideways spell
fixing everything. To finish the mess