puer

A familiar midnight

I lie, bloated as the moon, My eyes stretched shut. I believe I might be tired, But now, in this room, In this bed whose contours I know So well, I...

Bitterly

I hate you, dear heart, My beloved enemy knows How to make us part Our ways, in your eyes it shows.

Colour poems

I hate this poem, but I almost feel an obligation to it, because it was the lucky one that got published. I still hate it.

Dead languages

She is queen of the whiteboards, The straightened tables, The sow's ear books. Knower of knowledge, She cries upon being told That she studies a dead...