Sweet like the pink of your lips I’ll spend hours at the boiling point until I’m bubbling up at the seams until I’m ripping the

Is a rainless roof the relief of gas-heating and a quiet moment by the built-in at night with peppermint tea near the window with the

that I’ve let a lot people have me but maybe you’re the first one I want to touch it’s ok if I can’t that there’s

Abuela brought her dog back from the dead Chispa was hit by a car and Abuela nursed her back to health, Chispa, twitching and nerve-

here we are you and me on the edge of uncertainty entwined together  in the safe harbor of my bed with our candles and crystals

Love is liquid– a sinuous stream of consciousness weaving throughout time from diaper to death and maybe even after, when who knows what’s next. and

we kissed in stairwells we kissed behind bleachers we kissed in the backrooms of house parties we kissed where no one could see or were

I’ve had to start my life again three times since I met you. It’s not an easy thing to do. Even now, I hear it start:

                                       “First in the heart of my

CW: This piece contains sensitive themes around death and sexual abuse.     When I wonder if I saw dad’s dead body or simply imagined

A bittersweet afternoon, where the skies above were the palest blue. Where white cotton clouds roamed slow Of life’s tragedy, what did we know…. On

I do not fill my bath with flowers to be her, but because I want her. Some elastic part of me believes I could save

Thunder droned in the background like someone used to luckless love, while my son splashed in puddles, far removed from concerns that grew up next

as a part of her royal suffering held fast to moon beams as her late night refuge and they soon became her only link with

We desire beginnings: for the new question  And answer  To love, that gives us ourselves. The look of your eyes,  The rim of its opaque