Loose Brick
On the last Saturday of August,
an ambulance sirened past Valley Forge.
Your red Toyota was our caboose.
The cyclists who found me, squashed,
Young Poets
What We Leave Behind
My father drank salt water mixed with air
And sacrificed his legs and calloused hands at the altar of the sea,
So that it may split in half to give me the life he had only dreamed of.
We Have Said So Many Goodbyes
Today we remember you.
And will always remember you,
Even though we said many goodbyes
These past years.
Poems, Young Poets
False Spring
On one of February’s false springs,
I hike to the creek near my house,
Searching for mica, pottery, and shells.
Ghazal for Grandmother
My grandmother kept a suitcase, hard & rounded
like a deep pink shell. I used to finger its rounded
edges & compare them to her deft, valleyed hands.
Abecedarian for the Horses in a Trailer on Route 66
above the hood of this
beetle of a car, the sky
carries itself lightly. hugely. blue.