Poetry

For Ireland’s Home BabiesBased on the exhibition (A)Dressing our Hidden Truths by Alison Lowry loc

Back then I thought everything needed a heart:the dots over the two little i’s in my name;the lids

Tonight, the brisk nighttime winds  and the shrinking sliver of a moon signal  the unwelcome arriv

determine my age based on my isotopic decay, the half-lives in which i’ve contracted resulting in

there are times such that i want to hold the world in my palm as gentle as if made of glass or babie

After Unclouded Day   I find the hidden place in the wildflowers where the wind sighs down from the

We’re spinning spinning spinning legs faces bodies bouncing up and down hips shaking now the rhyth

I lay in bed till the microfiber threads wove their way into my veins. I played dead curled up roly

I have a pet named Habit who has paws like a bear, a bear made of humming strips of honey, paws with

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