From November, 2018

Office Cauldrons

The man extends his hand. “We’ll be in touch.” And they were: Jeremy gets the job. The first morning, the alarm goes off at 6 a.m., he’s out of bed on the first shrill call to arms, into the shower, out of the cascade, quick-drying food washed away with coffee, suit laid out the night…

O, Cinnamon

You call to me in malls, those Cinnabon kiosks that exhale the sienna spice essence of you baked and glazed with azúcar. I shake you on my Starbucks latte, watch you fall on the foam like ginger snow. Who knew you came from Ceylon, or that you were used in the embalm- ing of Egyptian…

Wood for Axes

The sap runs slick and red; it wets their axeheads, cutting the air with notes of salted copper. The lumberjacks are brothers, as is required. One is named Jack, as is coincidence. Scab-crack petals open to the night—full moon lights a full bloom. Clouds of black-chalk pollen make Jack sneeze, and whisper to his brother…

I Know I Won’t Be Here Tomorrow

I live alone in a very small town in Portugal. I have always enjoyed the anonymity of big cities, so I often go to Lisbon and wander around. I look at the passers-by. They all have a destination in mind. There are many families walking together or having lunch in the outdoor cafes. I envy…