sometimes I feel my heart fall to vague depths between words
there are such spaces that I can't help but feel my heart fall between the pregnant pause of all you will not say
and all i can not ask

I was so lucky to be raised believing in some part of myself — believing that if I put my mind to something, I should be able to figure it out.

My grandmother had pale hands
that looked like sturdy veins.
She wrote poetry, too, and sang.
Though she knew few lovers,
I hope here breasts were admired
as mine are
two silver deities
two shining steeples
giving testament to the sky. — And So to Receive You