Tag Archives: Deirdre Dishman

hands and the deserts between them

there are you-sized holes       in the universe, a rumbling in the belly             of everything from buffalo to scorpion, tasting of sunlight       paned through kitchen glass, of peached hands             pushing eggs into cakes like canyons, furthering       fascination with delicacies and earth’s … Continue reading

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becoming a pilot mid-flight

all day, shadows passed in periapsis across your face, time travel and coffee as black as deep space, noses diving between mugs again and again. you, an asteroid married to the light from my window frames. you said, deirdre, i … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | 1 Comment