Poetry

Opaque

What’s in a shadow? Can we

take it apart, unzip it and spill

its innards on the ground?

Do you think there’ll be bits of memory,

chunks of ourselves that we’ve tried to bury?

You say a shadow is just a space

that the light can’t get to.

That’s what I mean. If

we bury something, light can’t

get to it. You might be right. I

might be, too.

Poetry

Wear it on your heart

My hands fit right around your waist. I can pull you in tight, or let you go. We are sewn together, attached by a loose red string. You can wind it; so can I. Together, then. Hand over hand, gaze to gaze, we gather each other up into a tiny pin-badge pressed forever to our hearts.