The Enormity of It
- Mojave He[Art] Review, Issue 17, September 2019
Transgendered Ex at Son's Birthday Party
- Bourgeon, June 2019
Oracle of the First Kiss
- Published in Beltway Poetry Quarterly, Issue 19:4, Fall 2018
Leaves of Late November
- Published in Nightingale and Sparrow, Issue 1, February 2019
- Published in The Novice Writer, Issue 1, Spring 2019
- Published in Mercurial Stories, Vol. 1, Issue 34: Dawn, Fall 2018
For My Dad, Ron E.
Tastes of salt, grey, tang of tobacco, sweet sweat like
ground mace, garlic and lemon paste have clung
to my lips for seven years. The last kiss planted
on your forehead, watered aplenty in your passing,
bloomed past grief, casting a shade of melancholy.
Makes it easy to window-stare for hours, meditate on
stones, gravity, creases, and spicy scents that endure.
I stop and double take whenever passing the smoke
of cigars or cherry pipe tobacco, increasingly rare.
I remember you, tall and linear in black and white in
the pipe days, before you lost teeth to hold the bit.
Less often in the cigar days, shorter,
built of 45 degree angles.
I don’t begrudge that you forgot me. Who
was the most me to you? Parenting hosts
a fair amount of missing, the adorable
toddler, lost in a larger form.
Backing out of the room, I thanked you until my throat
was dry; you bedridden, slight beneath
the sheet. The same man I met at the door
when I was little with a kiss on the lips.