top of page


i tried to stay away —

turned the haiku they wrote us the other way

rationed myself to scraps of non-fiction

hid the books i craved under the blanket

you quietly folded the morning after

we threw it into disarray

but today

confronted by the blank space

of a whole day ahead of me

i finally cracked and found myself

in not one

not two

but three bookstores

no matter how i far i run

my feet always lead me back to words

despite the danger of drowning

in a whirlpool of sentiment

my soul cannot help but gravitate

towards the stories of other losses

bottom of page