Reverse Suicide (audio only)
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More by this poet
Ekphrastifilia
Your little elbow
nudges the air
as the raindrops
line up and wait
to fall. I forget
who I was before
our windows floated
away revealing
our drawn-over
selves. Your shadow
2019
Aperture (audio only)
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2013
Chekhov's Gun
Nothing ever absolutely has to happen. The gun doesn't have to be fired. When our hero sits on the edge of his bed contemplating the pistol on his nightstand, you have to believe he might not use it. Then the theatre is sunk in blackness. The audience is a log waiting to be split open. The faint scuff of feet. Objects are picked up, shuffled away. Other things are put down. Based on the hushed sounds you guess: a bed, some walls, a dresser. You feel everything shift. You sense yourself being picked up, set down. A cone of light cracks overhead.
2012