Poetry

Price Tag

Late June fields greening
under a mottled sky.
An oriole slashes orange
against a shingled Cape Cod.

O To Be a Semiautomatic Weapon

Late June fields greening
under a mottled sky.
An oriole slashes orange
against a shingled Cape Cod.

After the Loss of My Daughter to Suicide

Late June fields greening
under a mottled sky.
An oriole slashes orange
against a shingled Cape Cod.

After Another School Shooting, I Drive the Back Roads of New Hampshire

Late June fields greening
under a mottled sky.
An oriole slashes orange
against a shingled Cape Cod.

Dear Shooter,

1

The smell is like nothing else.
Sickeningly sweet and kind of smoky,
like something burning and rotting at the same time,
it filled my father’s hospital room
and stuck to our clothes and nostrils
long after he died.

Uremia

1

The smell is like nothing else.
Sickeningly sweet and kind of smoky,
like something burning and rotting at the same time,
it filled my father’s hospital room
and stuck to our clothes and nostrils
long after he died.

Getting Over a Cold

First open the windows and empty the garbage.
Next start the laundry, lights and darks.
Strip the bed, wash sheets, pillowcases,
mattress and quilt covers, mats and towels.

The Tender Roof

These things happen. There’s nothing
beautiful about it. She gave up her breasts

two years ago, but the cancer returned, pushing
through the sutures, the larval wasp consuming

The Bottom Drawer

Tucked beneath my mother’s shirts
and camisoles, a paper bag
of prayer cards, I find