Jackson

I dream a dog, / large, yellow, short-chained / to the rear wall of my house, / in sun, rain, / starlight, lunging / and snarling. Its man comes / and goes. I can stand the days, / … Read more

I ate scrambled egg / out of your letterbox / In the dream your house / was across the street / from mine // Mine had a leaking roof / a falling-down pergola / … Read more

reading the poems of women born the same year as my mother unaccountably      a homespun hat      a handloomed cloth      she’ll leave me      paintings of cats      with flowers      she’ll leave me      a blanket-stitched potholder      a gingham apron unaccountably I fold into tears First published in Writ Poetry Review 4, May 2020 Read more

If only a woman could get a jacket / with an inside pocket Read more