"Perhaps you are like the rabbit /
outside the fence, trembling in place, /
having just escaped the hound’s /
frustrated advances. You blend /
with the dark like the rabbit’s hide /
blends with the tree’s bark.
very still and perhaps the dreams /
won’t find you."
We Eviscerate What We Love
from Tahoma Literary Review
"A rabbit lies belly open on the kitchen floor, / its glassy eyes refracting lamp light,
viscera spilling onto tile. I read /
its warm pink innards like tea leaves
before trying to lift the open envelope /of its body in my hands and out the door."
from The Bear Review
"Now their yellow leaves /
and limp or brittle stalks remind you/
of the jaundiced, passed-out men slumped/
behind the wheels of cars in the pub parking lot./
There they waited for dawn or death to end/
their slow withdrawal."
My Heart, Not Hers (And Not Hers Either)
"If not for Buffalo Wild Wings and their extra large beers, /
my husband might have divorced my extraordinary self /
right at the airport. A man traveling with the least wise /
version of his wife needs a drink, or two, or three, /
because she will test all of his versions."