Geothermal


The Meadow Journal, 2023



Once we lived

on the bottom half of the world. 

It was summer

there, and we were falling

apart. We were happy

when drinking and our children

happy in the water heated by the veins

of a volcano. Their bodies 

in the refraction, magnified 

like my love for the things 

they adore: a meringue 

on the tongue, small dogs

in sweaters, bites of steak still red

in the middle. You didn’t know 

I wanted to leave you, and they

didn’t know. It was so quiet 

under the steaming water. I kept 

going down to listen 

to nothing. Soon everyone waiting

on shore. I came up

to breathe and beg, Please,

just one more time.

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That Kind of Mother

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It Was the Summer of Hard Tomatoes