Category Poetry

you go through the wash stages
the final rinse stage feels like
absolution after going to
Confession
where the priest absolves you of all...

their stubby fingers trace
the zippers
of my C-section scars
I tell them they are my seahorse tots
sprung from my belly slits

There’s scent of
blood in the barn
where someone
hung my prize
hog upside down

My earliest memory is of crawling to the edge of a cliff
and seeing nothing but pink and blue clouds beneath...

In college, I stole shrimp and celery for Mother’s Day. A grocer asked if I paid for the groceries in...