Backlit by city and refinery’s glow / these cypress bones shimmer
We waved goodbye to our fellow pilgrims as they boarded the bus bound for holy sites and, if lucky, glimpses of the pope. Peter and I walked back towards the house. All the while, eerie tendrils of cloud slid upwards, slowly releasing the village of Bienkowka.
When my father speaks to God he says, / the loneliness, the loneliness.
he hears a call and looks up to see / great golden wings of an eagle / oaring through the sky
Water striders walk / on fluid skin, feet / faintly bending surface, / push-back propelling
When someone says broken / family they mean broken / like a promise, like a bone, / like a dish.
O, Lady of the Masks, tell me: / how are your hands holding up / / as you gently push the pedal, control / the needle, hum a soft tune to no one
how can I, how can I / is not what the songbird said / but something similar
The only place for a lonely woman / is kneeling in front of TV