I took my pain, rolled it up into a little ball, wrapped my fingers around it, so it had love and warmth and comfort, and then I took a knife and slit it in half, letting the insides ooze out, and from that blood I made a song, which I sang to my insides at night, until even the owls fell asleep, and one day I shared my song with a friend, who said, “you should sell this,” so I took the song to a man with one curl lying on his forehead, and he said he would buy the song on behalf of his company, and then he gave me some … Read more

1.

An address to the cat in the window

Don’t go into the garden at this time of night, Mafdet, Sekhmet, Bastet, Bes, whichever one of the ancients you are. God of protection, small maker of mischief. The snow has raked out a new world. You won’t know where you are. The patterned bricks in the back yard strike seductive diagonal poses, but you might follow their raised edges into a silent … Read more

He could have written in solder,
his daughter too, even at eight, her eyes
unerringly following the line, lava-slow,
as it curved along the crack
in the euphonium bell. Her hand
moved in time with his, ghosting,
each stop and start perfect as ballet.
They both stood back when it was set,
he, you could see, reading
an invisible stave, the promise of a phrase … Read more