Location: Tampa, FL
Published in: APR, Nation, Literary Review, Black Moon, Bitter Oleander, etc.
Books: Watching Wisteria, The submerged fern in the waistline of solitude
By the gulf, I found her, Chiarra, as ashes.
Vactionists driving white vans among the shoreline
Had burned her flesh.
The stingrays whose curved backs turn gray waters into gold
Told me the secret of the phoenix,
Gave me the words, the ritual.
Chiarra, I could resurrect you and your white-gold hair,
But the charred bones of your arm's skeleton
Must extend towards me until I am touched by bones.
But, Chiarra, your finger bones point towards
The city lights that flake the horizon.