Sonnet with Church and Osso Buco The mystery of the Song of Songs: the priests’rationalizations of how the Roseof Sharon is the Church, the bride of Christ,or Israel, or a barbecue jointin Tennessee. Does He feedeth amongthe lilies sound like that to you? Get real.Solomon wants to be the Shulamite,the Rose of Sharon, the Fuchsia …
We’re driving the largest cleanup in history. . . . We let the plastic come to us, using the ocean currents in our advantage.—Boyan Slat Dear Boyan Slat, Honestly, I thought it was beautiful how after the rain drenched everything, the creeks rummaged through the holler, coaxing out all the plastic milk jugs and Clorox …
It was a warm midsummer night and getting dark now as Emily and a group of close friends sat on the grass of the courtyard, drinking beer and talking about orgasms—how it wasn’t always easy for women to have them. They had gathered to say goodbye to Emily, who had spent the last year in …
A binary star system consists of two stars that rotate around a shared center of mass, appearing to orbit each other. To the naked eye, they are indistinguishable, existing as a single point of light in the night sky. Only through a high-powered telescope can the stars be differentiated as they sear the space around …
When the clinician inserted the tent of seaweed into my cervix, a practice as outdated as Japan’s abortion laws, the tiny stab caused an involuntary jerk and gasp. She firmly pressed one of my knees with her free hand, saying, “Deep breath.” As I exited the room, I nodded, a slight bow to answer hers, …
Text: before there was manthere was mother and the sweetinfinince of her chorus mother of heaven, mother of earth, mother of mothers and other gods. mother of motherlands, broken waters, mountain peaks, and fertile valleys. mother of wind, mother of music, mother of sorrow and song. mother of echoes, mother of echoes, of echoes, echoes. …
Having nottouched myselfin some timeowing tothe erosionof incrementalsadnessesthat can detacha personfrom their bodyas cleanlyas a cliffis sheared froma coastline,the doctorinforms methat lovingmyselfis now myjob. So I take upmy own twofingers andwork them withthe seriousnessof earned saltand an imaginarysalaryinto the littoralcavern ofmy pussy. Andlike a wavethat sweeps theunsuspectingfrom the rockybreakwater,quite suddenlyeveryonewho has everfucked me isfucking meagain—mywife’s …
My mother tells me my grandmother has begun to touchherself. Dress up, hands between her legs, furious & buckling,& I wonder: how long has it been since she’s been touchedby anyone? Decades, I presume. Does there come a point in lifewhere you stop craving pleasure or do you learn to no longerexpect it? Her dementia …
