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each measuring 22" x 36" Cotton warp, glow in the dark thread, various synthetic weft yarns Text is from

bra, layering backwards camisoles over top (I had read online somewhere that this worked, but looking back And the rib, which the Lord God had taken from the man, made He a woman, and brought her unto the man Dotted on my left side, just hidden from view, I have a mole. The feeling is phantom, and soon I will have to turn from the mirror to face reality. And yet. Even when badly damaged, ribs hold an amazing capacity to grow back.

There is cooking, and washing dishes, and every afternoon the bed gets fresh sheets, crumbs from the

Whenever the trains speed in from different directions at the same time, the noise is the only thing It reverberates through every split end, fingernail, and freckle that hides on the small of your back They scurry around through your stomach and up your throat, building a nest in your head that pounds You’ll share popcorn back in your dorm room and have fun times freaking out your roommate. Excuse me Mx., but those hamsters are just beautiful with their striped backs, and I always wanted one

She asks me What do you do and I tell her Pick a word from the library of everything you know and make

semi transparent image of the top half of the same woman's face is inverted and enters the composition from

sound muffled sight like a cheesecloth caught in a web a tear against the sky (a window) drips down ( bones are. learned what friends are. 2 stuck on a dresser, can’t get down feel on fire. wake up to the sound

Holy, Pouring from your mouth. Holding me, In the red of my room. God, I want to fuck him.

the water slushes against the skin of stone a cold wave washes above all I can see is the distant sun from the water slushes against the skin of stone a cold wave washes above all I can see is the distant sun from the water slushes against the skin of stone a cold wave washes above all I can see is the distant sun from

air drenches pores and sticks to skin, Soil waits for tender palms— abuelitas, we plant mango seeds back We lay under shade and pray into its roots— we come back to traditions in visions with every inhale, it becomes easier to breathe. and heal the wounds of our history.

Your hair was grey too and saturated from the deluge, so much bitterbrush and rabbit grass hanging down

not knowing the comfort I am not rotten into anything Do not mistake this for loneliness, birds flock from