Category Poetry

ghosts know it like

they know my name

a selkie diving again and again

into the Irish sea

do I take a rest

as my mother once did

she is an ocean,

too.

unless you have a toddler
in which case you do at least three times

a big box of squeeze and buttons and squeaky noises

There are words in the English language that are especially beautiful

breathless beneath blue & purple

On the edge of town, all the telephone wires are humming with her tiny fears

and we swarm it like flies / windows

milk, streaming from my open lip