new poems

from “A Spell for Becoming Lace”

Hurricane Harvey, Houston

. . .Monday, August 28, it rains. The street is a river

that flows to stone steps, then wrought iron railing, porch,

seeps into floors, walls, rises and rises. The water enters you,

is trapped in your shiplap walls. You have a choice:

You can dissolve, become the warp and mildew of wood, swollen sheetrock.

Or you can resist:

Imagine the ivory bobbin of bone lace. Let the water move through you

like mesh. Let the cordonnet be your scaffolding, each linen stitch

wrapped and buttonholed, locked, secured in place,

a porous stronghold delicate as home.

The River Styx, 2020

A Prayer for Brody & Rhys

And for Bruno Schulz, shot and killed by Gestapo officer Karl Günther in 1942 while walking home through the Aryan quarter with a loaf of bread

May the world not die of bread

or a lost Messiah

or the oil smeared desert

or a fire washed sky

but ripen into childhood—

the heart’s crocodiles turned

cinnamon shops

and love

The Texas Observer, 2025