Tristesse
Crying after sex isn’t sexy. She tried not to do it, pressed her face to her pillow
so they wouldn’t see. But it happened.
Chapbook Prize
Her Father Talks to Her About Sex
If your right hand offends, chop it off,
throw it away. Better for you
to lose one part of yourself than
suffer your whole body to burn.
Her Father Calls to Explain That Daughters Aren’t Easy
She was always a disappointment.
Mom said Dad came to the hospital with blue baby sneakers;
on seeing her pink hat through the nursery window,
he trashed them and wept.
Audio, Awards, Chapbook Prize, Poems
Childhood Homes
Where the bushes are now a house once was. See there—where branches are twisted together like skinny arms hugging air?
The Death of a Migrant Worker
My father died in the bathtub, his head banging against the stainless-steel handles. The blood from his head—useless now—poured out,