Duo
12" x 10"
(2018)

Solo
10.5" x 13.5"
(2018)

Achilles and Patroclus
(2018)

And if we sometimes turn away
and cast our eyes long over the ocean,
the synchronized swelling of our breasts
forming tidepools in our lungs,
know that it is not because we do not wish to see each other
but because we have already seen ourselves too much

Epistolary; I wrote to you in the language of flowers
,48" x 35"
(2017)

Sweet Sappho,
we bury our young
love with heavy hands
I felt your skin flickering
and temperamental,
like greenhouse orchids,

“I will always love you”

This is a body of water
40" x 45"
(2017)

Hold me on the banks
stuck tide keeping trickling sand
that tugs across my feet

with each passing wave
I have wondered about the undertow
which wears down shores
like you wore me down
carefully
thoroughly
recklessly
descended into froth

Untitled
33" x 23"
(2017)

I guess I was a twig-chewing child,
feet deep in mild mud
swallowing flowers as if i could absorb some better essence,
some bitter essence
that would hold me wild from darker things and if
I found myself leaving on sallow mornings and dirtier days
maybe it was not so much that i wanted to leave
but that I wanted to be noticed gone

75 mph (or the speed my lover drives on long nights)
41" x 21"
(2018)

Toes digging into logs
like splinters, brambles
you’re proud of me
when i hop the fence
tights torn on bits of rust as we bury the bones of animals
way out back by a deer carcass.

(There was a huge release,
a pungent aroma, they said,
when the ice melted
and time started moving again)

And we steeped through leaves,
past fur-coated winter antlers
and someone’s tossed leftover beer cans,
and I wondered in mist coated weather
when this became a thing.

We’ll come back next summer you swear
and lay our bodies within the ribs of that deer with the perfect antlers
still not taken back by the dirt and the bugs and your cat

(Achilles)

I hope this car ride home in the dark doesn’t end
that we are stuck in the traffic of trees and the lights no longer change for us
because there is something delicate and easy about only seeing a sliver of your face reflected in the headlights

(Things always seem to come back to car rides when I write about you, I’ll never understand that)

Maybe its that the rolling of my blood goes as fast as your over the speed limit magic gears