Christina Stoddard
When you ask again if I believe in ghosts,
insisting I commit, I answer with
a vision my cousin had two summers ago […]
When you ask again if I believe in ghosts,
insisting I commit, I answer with
a vision my cousin had two summers ago […]
Knocked over behind the garden bench
Her stone torso gathers ivy.
Vestal, a body premised on removal and now seated […]
In front of the peristyle a woman
gazes into a window made of water.
Not cotton boll, not ticker tape, what whitest […]
when the female would speak
in the voice of capital
it destroys the capital […]
We always think
it’s those neighbors […]
Suddenly I’m thirsty.
Sun flaring off a glossy magazine
triggers a need for liquid light. […]
In your father’s home the universe came
in one, unstitched
to me awake, to hear
[…]
If as shame is to memory, so too desire,
then is this desire, this cloak of shadows,
that I wrap close around me, that I
refuse to take off? […]
I wake up at a lighthouse
where Ocean meets sound.
At the point of navigation
I lose sight of them. […]
I liked to think I sipped my heritage
from a mason jar,
a tobacco drag like hardwood smoke. […]
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