the lake
turns in the cabin’s
light, trees
at intervals grow
smaller & on

I try not to stare
at the cabin
wall, buried with
just its neck
above the grass


drunk, watching
waves rise in the
leaves, this butcher wind
with no sound, no

winter? I lay under
the wind & came
apart, afraid
to have the light
& the stone
walls to myself


I make shoes
wash the sheets
pack them both
in the hot oven
& take a walk

wash myself
in the dark
then make
new shoes







I gather wild
heads, their restless voices
calling across the lake
I could not keep
within myself this morning
I boiled two &
ate one

a pretty little head
over my shoulder
7 years old
but in blossom, still full
of the heavy


my brother
told me fingers
wrapped in yellow
flowers are the mark of
two bodies
in one grave


trailing him
through the breeze
& shadow
poems, scattered
across the lake’s
gray surface

the water overtakes
me, so I sleep
a few hours
my pants spread &
wet, reaching all
the way down







a long shaft of sterile
inward light
passes through the early milk, an iceberg
in the dark, heavy


my heart
does not shine
for vengeance, drifting
through the cabin at twilight
straightening the linens


we will write again soon
about a brother
whose who was not
deep enough
to hold us both






once he was a woman, tall and darker than me; when she went missing

he was a quiet back alley, a loose-jointed body

in an unwashed pile; when the field is scrubbed clean

iron is what remains: a chain on our legs

stretching out to the woods, digging down until it reaches a cavern wall

and further down in a trickle of water


in breathless pursuit

three men dig into his back and take off his feet; his new body

luminous in the winter moonlight, running

through the woods; he carries our whole family, the names and the faces

through rows of oak, his new legs built with openings

too narrow for us to pass through


blood can be traced for miles, but they were not quick enough

to find us in the valley;

this night and heartbeat survive in our mind

even as shadows darken over our bones: a flickering light, an unexplained echo

a strong, short shove that will send us safely under

until we resurface, leaving a mud-covered body near the river