Author name: Rattle

Poems

The Tears of India

My old man’s dead and my boy’s in prison. He got pissed and climbed the razor wire fence so he’d […]

Poems

Memory

As though darkness were a hand, a tactile memory like playing the piano. You touch lost things: The texture of

Poems

Telephone Lines

When the telephone first came to our upcountry farm in Kula, there was only one wire. The numbers were a

Poems

End of Days

Almost always with cats, the end comes creeping over the two of you— she stops eating, his back legs no

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