top of page



I want to come back as a newborn 

                                                         and wail.

I want to want a thing 

and to cry for it like it’s nobody’s business. 

I want to cry so hard 

that my tears blind me,

and that my lips, 

no not just my lips, 

my whole entire body trembles.

I want to feel lonely

or to have the tag on my shirt chafe

and to scream like I've lost a limb,

scream like Nero dipped me in oil

and set me

                                                         on fire.

I want to want milk

and to yell the kind of yell

that makes walls hum;

the sort of inside out howl

that calls the coyotes,

moves the mist through the valley,

and gathers the mothers of the universe,

raises their eyebrows,

makes them crane their lovely, long necks

                                                        towards solace.

bottom of page