Fantastic Floridas

2 Poems

They laughed the day they broke my humerus and splinted it with wire coat hangers wrapped in black tape so my skin couldn’t breathe, so I’d understand honest pain.

Thoughts and Prayers

These days we still don’t stop for death. Instead, we pass by and outside the window lining the suburban boulevard one tree gleams in the morning sun—the trunk wound tight in tinsel...

Island Time

We listen. With the winds coming across, it feels like we’re on an island. A scrabbled, patchy isle in rough seas.

Flatwood

We walked along the edges of the pickup bed to avoid the alligators in the center, we were tipping and taunting and finally falling into the bed and scrambling, forgetting there were alligators when we found the sun-rotted tarps . . .