The bones remember more than flesh allows: Each rib a record of a whispered past,

I vowed to you I would stay wild knowing you loved my teeth  except when they chased other flesh

This language can't find anything that rhymes with orange.

Like a dry fallen leaf blown by

At dawn, I press my palms to cold glass, watching the corridor stretch like an empty sky. Charts flutter: life, pulse, breath; each tick of the clock heavier than the night.

The road bends, broken in places, mud clinging to tire treads. Storm debris waits like memory:

The air once full now slips away unseen, Each inhalation measured, frail, and slight. We mourn the quiet life that might have been.

Remember  the year you sat out the orbit around the sun? The year you hovered in space and all you wanted was to watch the planet

I did it for her. She never got the chance to go, becoming a mother so young

Ice clacking branches in moonlit gusts deem this trudge conceivably lethal, but dim echoes of its crunching

I’ve spent a lifetime, waiting to hold my breath. Heart beating fast at the onset of conflict. Running to...

I never heeded the squeaks of the half-opened gate nor the kitchen clock tchhing that you were late.

The ferry gave way to a taxi and Led to a grubby room in yellow.

Pearls of sweat trickle down my forehead onto my nose and along the wrinkles of my mouth.

Arriving home he found her baggage gone And his three young children upon his hands.

I sit in a spot where the old Barn cuts out the least sky.

All the rage on the lake: supping. But it’s not my cup of tea, really.

The car shakes. Rocks dot the road like appointments.

Throughout life we have mossy wings, but no choice of the branch...

What people say when you’re not around, parading their overturned trees like candles in hand, sparkle explosions