Poetry

This city unstrings its fingerbones, unravels the dressI hide behind; doorsfixed shut, eyes on every clock blind. Solitaire cards played in the dark This is no game; I’ve seen it all before. picking petals off daisiesdrawn on my skin by his desire.The river’s polluted, the lake fire, my rowboatrotten wood. I’ve seenstrange things Lady, I’m …

“Luzon’s coastlines are receding.” – Lois Calderon, “Philippine coastline receding because of Chinese mining black sand,” CNN Philippines, May 27, 2021 Your brows reveal untapped coast, fresh ores, endless archives. Listen as your marrow seeds a winged spell. Listen for carapace stroking new waters. Listen to ocean as it murmurs to black sand. Listen to …

I need to tell you how I felt in the park this morning when I stood on the frosted grass with my dog as we stared at three wild horses eating these stiff blades. I’ve swallowedworse mouthfuls of winter, but stillI need to find better words than worseto describe that open cavity of wetlands they …

something hooked between / my shoulder blades / tugs and I melt metallic / from the corners of my mouth / frothing silver lined foam / that crumbles once it’s past my chin / for me to stand on the rubble of / my own sterling saliva / as I turn myself to ore and …

a “figure of man and woman all together” —Vocabulario de la lengua tagala, 1613 mornings, I braid wet black hair quick & taut after bathing. the health of flock & herds depends on the rain.I’ve met those wooden figures, both male & female sleepy in granaries. say, water—say loving words like fish, fruit, fowl.my body …

I think of little Leah who stumbles offthe camp bus at pick-up, beelines to the buzzypsychic’s table set up on the terrifying sidewalkof New York City. Our first reaction, Let’s leavethis stranger alone . . . but her solid curiositya sock finding a freezing foot, or water spillingon salt, something extraordinary because it isnecessary, sincere …

a girl walks into her mother’s closet & says she’s bisexual & the mother hands her a shirt to fold & says you won’t feel that way in ten years & the girl walks into her boyfriend’s arms & says she likes girls & the boy laughs & hands her his cock & the girl …

question:how else to erupthow else to churn through daily sickness how else to carry what is not minehow else to lean in closer to feel the molting heat how else to get burnedhow else to watch the grass grow back how else to plod like fire ox how else to chew cudhow else to eat …

the golden oak kitchen cabinet crashed to the floor this morning just as I was simmering a dream of caribou and wolves nearly clipped the corner off the sleepfog swirling like eggs in a teflon frypan a mug of tea splattered when it slipped my grip shocked by the shriek of the cabinet’s unhinging now …

give me a spoon,shallow bowl oftarnished silver,ornate handleleft over fromyour grandmother’syouth. a grapefruitspoon, its tinyserrated edgemade to cut throughtender skin andunholy flesh.give me a spoonand I will diga tunnel tochina, startingwith my body,carving deeperand deeper andinto my gut,under my ribs,serving up myentrails, one smallscoop at a time. Brittany Davis (She/They) is a lesbian, transfemme poet …