“the velvet of your cheek relights
my memory like a torch / opens
my mouth with a wrench / presses the silver coin of my
want into your hand / “

“My Nani passed away two years ago, and the house has since been sold, but this image feels like a love letter to my childhood, to that home, and to the warmth and love that lived within its walls.”

“So, let us both recognize the trap: there will come a time
when you leave me and the winged seeds of this tree will still blossom.
My heart will sprint like a rabbit, and you will be the one caught
in the snare you hold open, the wire biting your own hand.”

“in this house, on a street named  for its terminus at the ocean, i scrubbed out the stains of  creatures who came before me, so as to continue the cycle,  & create our own stains.”

“Tonight, the hazed New York landscape outside my balcony trembles.”

“I’ve seen how the eyes 
of the leaves, even half withered on winter trees, 
light up with a teardrop of snow…”

“Let me press my mouth to the flowers and mango on your skin. I am holding more than diasporas in my hands.”

“Four days after the news of  Ricky’s death, you stroll the East Village in a fur coat and a lingering guilt in your sternum. You can’t  decode it. It's not as if you killed the guy.”