Cocooned in the sheets of our lovemaking, as if enveloped by you once more, I breathe the slow breaths of sleep, inhaling the medley of our sloughed off cells. The sounds of our life drifts into the bedroom.  A closing door. The sound of your coffee cup filling. The clunky spinning of the toilet paper…

We sat on the bed, two adult women in pajamas, the way teen-aged girls do at spend-the-nights. She’d called half an hour before, asking to come over. I had waited for her car headlights and opened the door as quietly as the squeaky hinges allowed. We’d padded up the stairs, her pregnant body moving with…

We sat on the porch looking out on the fenceless yard. The old house, with its peeling lead paint and a chimney that had once cleared smoke from the living room coal stove, sat at our backs and was filled with artifacts of her past and present. Family heirlooms and thrift-store finds that had been…

Suelto al viento sordo mis palabras de amor por ti. Le cuento que aun siento tus labios sobre los mios, besandome como si quisieses consumirme. Mis senos sentados comodamente sobre tus manos tibias y teirnas. Me imagino estar acurrucada en tus brazos, tu aliento sobre mi cuello, y sollozo la perdida de lo que fuimos…

The phone alarm goes off again. It  grates my nerves, though its sound is the gentle chirping of birds. I have snoozed it ten times, every eight minutes or so. Each time giving the screen a soft tap with the tip of my index finger, just a caress in the right spot. What I really…

The elder dog paces, his nails keeping time with the slow, careful movements of his aging body. He doesn’t move to chase birds, or to frolic with his life companion or with the younger dog who goads him. He moves simply because he can, when he is free enough from pain. He moves simply to…

I don’t smokeShe saidThe breath aroundHer wordsReeking of tobaccoHer movementsReleasing Stale plumesHer yellowed fingersSigningThe consent forms

My eyes adjust to the darknessAnd find your sleeping faceAs you surrender to sleepYour contours softenI clearly see the moisture of dreamsSeeping from your poresMy lips touch yoursAnd I drink your subconscious

Limp Like a bad loverHangs the flagOn a rusty poleSurrounded by old menSome balding withGraying and sparseComb oversSome already baldThey sit on splinteredWooden benchesWith peeling paintOn a windlessHot summer dayThe grass Under their Velcro-shoed feetThe texture And color of hayIt is so dry It cracks Even under the Slight pressureOf rodent paws

I lie on the bedWarmed by the spring sunThat strokes me throughThe wall to wall windowOf our 10th floor apartmentI am curled around a pillowThe infant Born months agoNaps at my sideI lift my head to Sip hotBitter oregano teaFeeling the return ofViolent tremors In my pelvisAnd the resultingBlood flowI rejoice secretlyMarvel at my biologyAt…