Writing

Poetry |

“The Shape of Moving”

“It’s where the wind ends, his note says, / and no one finds him for so long he’s been eaten // by insects and vultures — all but his bones and cap …”

Poetry |

from Leaving: A Poem from the Time of the Virus

“… nobody // themselves anymore, not a single apparition, / withdrawal after defeat // but no destination.”

Essay |

“The ‘A’ In Abortion”

“They ask if we want to look at him, and my then-husband leaves the recovery area for the neonatal ICU located somewhere else in the hospital, but I say no. When he returns, I ask him to describe what he saw …”

Poetry |

“You Learned an Anne Sexton Poem”

“You learned an Anne Sexton poem, / to share at my Quaker wedding. We worried over one word, / a tiny one that made the stanza sing. But would my mother want to hear it, / from the pew?”

Poetry |

“Variations”

“Jenny showed us patterns on her viola / through the spastic tinkle of Zoom. // I tried reading some of my Goldbergs poems, / mostly inaudible.”

Essay |

“Guesting”

“I didn’t know then and don’t know now if the notion of cost/exchange brought me closer to the woman who made you possible. Or to you, even while our bodies were like braided dough in your bed on the floor …”

Poetry |

“My Mother’s Pocketbook”

“… a linen hanky reeking / of Jungle Gardenia, / a rain bonnet folded neatly // in its plastic sleeve …”

Poetry |

“Figuration” and “Pandemonic”

“The silence of lawn chairs in falling snow, / half-built houses draped in tarps, / satellites that blink across night sky, / their lights a pulse that leaves no trace.”

Essay |

“Kostis Palamas Does Not Attend His Own Funeral”

“And Kostis Palamas drifts, then sits on a hill. A hill of trees. Reciting his poems against the Occupation — certain salve of Greece that is its history and its disease.”

Poetry |

from “Mandarin Pandemic Diary”

“Now the neighbor’s black cat is already hunting. / Birds, be careful. I’ll be careful. / I remember. I forget. / The black cat, like rain, disappears.”

Poetry |

“Last November” and “Tracks”

“The heat broke in the night and we woke to our breath / swept the ash from the hearth     lit holiday mailers / with a long lighter so logs would catch …”