A fluttering noise interrupted Vishal’s deep slumber. His half-closed, sleepy eyes followed the sound from where it originated and was astonished to find a winged visitor comfortably perched on the window sill.

i.

family, n. any group of persons closely related by blood.

Fritz Lang is dying in Los Angeles.

An acquired taste.
For the cannibals we say we aren't

Drag, in the classical sense, is not something I’ve ever done.

My daughter won’t crawl.

Alanah started life on the cold blue-black slate of the kitchen floor. She lay in the wet slithering mess of childbirth, content.

I pick blue hydrangeas
from my yard. Don’t know
what to do with them.

“The cheek of her wearing black. A large bosom, thin legs like a heron, I’d forgotten those. Hair too silver-blonde for the age of her face. Jack must have sunk into her like a cloud. Or a sofa whose springs have gone.”

“In the arid dunes of the Gobi desert, I burrow under the surface to wait out the heat of the midday sun.”

“On the day in question, I wake up feeling incredibly calm. It has rained all night – I can practically hear the water seeping into the garden.”

“A thump nudged James into consciousness.”

“Oscar picked the castle for our last night of a 10-day trip to Ireland. We’d worn on each other.”

An erasure.

“in air thick with rain’s threat, i pull
words up like sick on string.”

“The night is an old woman.”

“sing loud and long, sing
for those who can’t, sing”

this is where we

misremember & forget-

me not

“when I say,

death wafts in this house,

I do not like the way it dwells -”

“You secure a research grant, you fly to Newfoundland and invite me to fly there too, join you at the airport. You say that you’ve missed me, that we should get together again, do some catching up, see what happens.”