Latest Writing
POETRY
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THE SHATTER OF BIRDS by Javier Zamora
after Abuelita Javiercito, you’re leaving me tomorrow when our tortilla-and-milk breaths will whisper te amo. When I’ll pray the sun won’t devour your northbound steps. I’m giving you this conch swallowed with this delta’s waves and the sound of sand absorbing.
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TO MY POLISH AUNTS by Mary Kovaleski Byrnes
After Ginsberg Skin pale and pocked with moles, your names pulled from Slavic litanies, were strong enough for farm work, had the taste of whole milk: Bertha, Elsie, Hannah, in your kitchens, I sat on wooden chairs, one eye looking out for the coal-grayed cats
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WHAT I WISH FOR by Kay Cosgrove
At the party I would stand as a statue, offering guests talking points about the Roman Ideal and that famous grace. There is more. I’d quell ambitions, have the armies stop fighting, ask for less.
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