Author Archives: Jenny

  Her children burn their prayers so they will go out on the wind. She says: Look at this circle this line look at this hand. See these loves these children this one you have told no one. Here you … Read More

  Both male and female, the clasp unhinged, the opening forced, the two hardened halves splay, release, relax; the wet of the neon blue gone dry and grey, one hundred eyes that once swept the Great South Channel; all the … Read More

  My middle name went down in the Tyrrhenian off Anzio Beach, life jacket filling with the sea. After that, my father, split in half, would sing into the bathroom mirror, where his twin lived. After she died, we found … Read More

  Smooth and cool with a streak the color of clouds and fog broken   by a coastline, the dove’s egg, because I was pregnant,   seemed to be a gift wrapped in sticks that during the storm   fell … Read More

  Brother, do you remember                the splinters, the shape of that conversation? The words                the bent metal made? How I told you If you can’t sit still, I’ll do the … Read More

  I am two people at dusk, two bodies wrapped in thin cotton Among the crabgrass on some night in August when the narrow Alley light of the full moon shakes across the Atlantic, buoys Waving from the sidelines. In … Read More

  Here lie the femurs, drowned swimmers’ bones raised with cranes to analyze back on land under lights more clinical than this one, bleaching me, day after day, with loggerhead patterns. Here lies the spine, unacknowledged guide of the body, … Read More

  It is rare for a person to enter a castle, but common for him to die there. Often enough I feed the wrong meter. One bird will raise another’s and think nothing. I raise my head and am astonished … Read More

  Would you believe my red if I exposed the green underneath? Would you carefully cry into my figure and mourn the wet shoulder in your wake? Don’t bother— this is. Would you believe me if I told you this … Read More

  Tell me the distance between here and home is not remorse or an old loss rousing out of sleep. Tell me memories are not attached to time. Tell me they are simply feathers falling, blue and bright and moving. … Read More

  Remember October, the one pressed in your bible & that red whipping wind over the pier. Remember the heavy light   of a bright dying, the compass, a magic you could not find, the endlessness of never knowing whether … Read More

  To conjure love from bitterness, To plant the mint and watch it thrive, From anger capture anger’s fright, Whisk pity into empathy, To walk the dogs in fields at night Under a starry symphony, In morning wake and rise … Read More