the FEROCITY

she wakes

a little heavier each morning, a night’s worth
of bullet casings tangled in her hair.

I haven’t written a poem since July. When I write now mostly, it’s either an essay or the book.

(The book is a beast. It eats the same part of my brain poetry likes to eat.)

Anyway, a poem I wrote a while back is in Quarterly West’s new issue.

Reading it makes me want to write poems again.

(My book just gave me a mean look.)

You can read the poem here.