Remnants

  Rivulets steam and stream Salty, hot, Under this thick non-woven Breathing face mask, Meant to keep out A million miniscule molecules Of ash, one remnant of That rant of fire That leapt the canyons and dry ridges, In one pyrocumulus moment Then consumed,...

Edit Two

The final round Of editing Feels like That sprint When your lungs burn And your legs wobble And you can see the finish line, But are gasping for hope and energy.   To undo What took so long to do Seems counterproductive.   In fact, Such editing Adds a patina...

The Hope of Dirt

The shovel is my brother, a good companion as we play together in the dirt…   and I am bigger for hoping— as I dig, as I turn soil upside down, and a few worms, too.   I imagine the tiny roots climbing low, low, low, while tiny shoots climb high.  ...

Arose She

Arose she at magenta sunrise, just after twinkling bouquets faded. The summer damask rose shimmered in an old cut glass vase beside her bed. He always left one waiting there. She thought of that other day, fifty-two summers ago, when her now-snow-headed sweetheart...

What We Didn’t Know

  What we didn’t know Was that our hearts Would burn Within us, Just like their hearts Burned when The Fire Spoke On the road. Emmaus-bound, They thought, But really, Like us, They were Bound to The Consuming One. The Word, Made Flesh, newly spoken, Remade their...