Visiting Mary I visit the place I imagine her in.I practice walking the tall grassto the stony house,the bit of rock they’ve left, a candleto mark she was there,that someone is there to find.I practice shutting the door in my mind,driving straight.It won’t matter how abandoned—the place will be ringing with crickets.The low, twitching…

        Grief is like a miracle   like opening your mouth for water, and finding rain. You stand for days outside the body of a silent church. Snow touches the stillness of the windows and you long for their acceptance, a few tears. You tell yourself the door isn’t closed: it’s open and…

          Allotment Evening   You left the fire burning. The smoke stirred like a person moving among the brassicas and twine, and for a moment we thought it was you. The ground was steeped in yellow. Daffodils hung their soft heads, surrounded by light, and I lifted the tender net on the…

        Death in the form of a child   When you came alive, I leant in, a red flower to your whisper. What you said, was dark. Darkness, from the bud of the spine, so I turned away. I still remember the sound. If I close my eyes, I see your mouth, white,…