Atoning

1 Mother is a place, hidden in breast an aumbry, in the crux a son. 2 You see but look away from my paling flesh, don’t even graze. I see me too— unwanted visitor, sinkhole, dark star, vapor. I believe sometimes believe I must, will you believe me? Lament for my child, the raw scent, […]

Oregon Winter

Noble Fir cradlethe ridge like bowed armor whisk forest floorsand hungry crows peck wounded tissue clean. Maples’ blistered limbs camouflage in chartreuse fur a canopy of browsto absorb the daily soak muddy the root. A Chestnut-backed chickadee forages and rests in these trees bereaved of energyshe survives in a blanket lineage, a windbreak. On rare […]