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They said in ancient Greece and Rome and suchlocales—and maybe everywhere, I guess—that household gods—say, ancestors’—would lookupon us in the home, as from an urnwith ashes in it on a mantelpiece—or even absent ashes or the vase. But I have my Italian grandfather’sold grooming scissors, made when things would last,andContinue Reading

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And miles of ghosts beneath our sleep.—Philip Metres, Song for Refugees Beneath our sleep we juggle goldand crimson fruit of cackling djinnstwirling insouciant fingers bold. Beneath our sleep we flounder, spinin roils of black and endless waveswhere circling monsters lurk within. Beneath our sleep, stumbling in cavesof blackened tunnels, massedContinue Reading

On:

Lawrence Raab said sleepis a way to stave off death. Maybe that’s what I’m doingon these long mornings when the dawn light tries to creepbeneath my blackout curtains. Last night’s tears leavingmy skin starched and stiff and photos of you the first thingsthat appear when I unlock my phone. MyContinue Reading

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In the moonlit shadows, I met a specter, A spirit from realms beyond, a ghost, a reflector. With whispers and echoes, a call from the past, A spectral interview, an encounter vast. In the haunted hollows, where memories lie, I summoned the apparition, beneath the midnight sky. A wisp ofContinue Reading

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A crust of moon slicesthe dawn, clouds furrowingfirst lavender then peachbefore robin’s egg blue perchesthe horizon. My futurehangs in the balance, strangersnibbling my profile, uninterestedin living, only in scrollingthrough yesterday’s choices.Sun brightens, gulpswhat’s left of night,and I abandon the bed, mourningsleep. My cousin lingerspartly in the Gulf Stream, partlyin Ohio’sContinue Reading

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Of course it was nearly dark, of course the music stopped abruptly so that the only sound was the pop-and-tick of tires over the gravel driveway, of course the headlights picked up and threw uncanny shadows against the house as Jim and Mona pulled up in the moving truck. TheyContinue Reading

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Lips stained blue from the holy, splashed ichor,& in your eyes lies something, an ember, a shine—a wicked, sick rendition of the barest fire’s flicker. She stands among fires & piles of ash, sickerthan her deceased, stomach like a brine,lips stained blue from the holy, splashed ichor. You laugh. SheContinue Reading

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As I was sorting it all out,I found among my brother’s papershis passport application, completed.And official photos shota year before he died.He must have been two pinched to file. Whereas I am flush, I realize,thus properly documented.Border crossings, customs, proofof citizenry? No problem. Just this summeron my first trip northIContinue Reading

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They come to me for a summer, saying, oh Sappho, teach me song and poetry and all things lovely which trickle like honey off the tongue. Here, in fields a-hum with bees and studded with clover, away from the eyes of men, they sit in circles and learn meter andContinue Reading

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When spring comes,frost ghostsnew grass blades–flowers hold their breathshiver–waitinguntil the chill has passed. then open their bloomsbeneath the warm sununafraid.Continue Reading