Perennial

Girlhood, selfhood, and the fragility of safety in tender poems that examine and then mourn micro- and macroscopic violence.

"Set back, growing dim,
it pulsed: a gray hour
of oxygen—could it be

mid-winter within
him? Shaking
out a muscle: we

are somewhere
averting. We are
backwards or in
a trance or in a
dioxide stargazing."