house

Martha | Poetry

Martha | Poetry

you unknown root my wild card I had you, old woman with still-dark hair squatting by the wood stove hardly glancing at the tiny girl, the post-war baby. my daddy told me we were Blackfoot from you. so in cowboy games I wore backyard feathers. later in his dream west...
Refrigerator Poem | Poetry

Refrigerator Poem | Poetry

I thought cold rot would be better than warm rot, so I turned the breaker back on after the renters left a family’s worth of food in the fridge, but the heat got to it before I did, liquefied the butter and ice cream, pressurized the soda cans so that I had to...