Four Poems
I borrow my womb from myself to be a nest for your thoughts. I want to exist as someone’s metaphor. Read
I borrow my womb from myself to be a nest for your thoughts. I want to exist as someone’s metaphor. Read
Remember to feed it pills daily, / star any chart on an app. Pee on sticks / first thing each day. Aim carefully. / Wait a fixed amount of time. Read
How we must look when we ride through the farms and villages between holds: two women mages, soft skin bound in studded leather armor, conjuration circles ringing our proud heads. Read
It’s hard to remember, sixteen years later, what I found so mesmerizing about a graphically obsolete princess. The jerky, jagged game was unrecognizable to the world I remembered spending dozens of hours in. Read
"If you think I'm the type of person to let anything go, you don't know me.” Read
when we would play Space Invaders, we would pretend we were killing hegemony Read
Play again until the pieces fill every hungry threshold Read
The ever-present monsters / soon catch up and A MAN / slowly disappears as the machine utters / a whine another MAN / appears the process repeats Read
I’m a purger, generally speaking. I don’t hold onto things. I’m not even sure the Odyssey2 still works. Read
well bottoms have dried, have heard the baritone rumble of river and evaporated into counter-melody. villagers wake to a death march, to a song broke free from the ground. Read
It is the bed you have been resting in for years. Someone is making coffee and expecting you to rise. Read