Day 1,301

There will be a worse day. He will live / long enough to not recognize me at all, / and I sense it drawing nearer…

Dementia Unit for John Glenn

You toss a pale bagel onto his plate, / do some hand-waving around / the problem of gravity.

Autumn Dawn, After Fog

the fields to silver, mown paths / like rivers of first-ice—every / blade of grass scattering light

Conversation with a Dead Poet

I kept them all. The poems, I mean. When I / tried to tell your mother, she’d leaned in…

Chaas Curry

Two months into her illness, Pat / lay in pain, nearly immobile, / nourished by pills and liquids, / no appetite even for favorite foods—

The Practice of Cleaning

My mother knows there are three / ways to be clean: to take a mess / that’s there and cover it…

The James Webb Telescope Detects a Heartbeat

They say the pulses come from a distant galaxy, / an infant cluster in the first moment of birth.

Breaking the Fever

The tender of your reflection / inverted in chrome / as a kettle boils


Once a woman who lost her mother / told me the story of a guru rushing / to satisfy his dying mentor’s last wish.