For the Girl Who Raised Herself
Her mother sleeps whenever she can,
late afternoons on top of the sheets,
light pouring in from the windows with
the errands left undone.
She’s like a church in a mine
where work and worship
join blistered hands.
And all the little heads come to bow
at the edge of her mattress
—softer than anything—
where miners still dream
even after a cave in.
Other Works
Cosmuseum
reviewed by Sean Sam
... When one of the cafeterias becomes inaccessible, the museum staff begin to starve. They turn to eating the exhibits....
I Believe These Magpies Followed Me
by Mervyn R. Seivwright
... I have not felt the silence // I find with only blackbirds and magpies ...