Featured Poems

My great-grandmother gave all
her jewelry—cameo, rose gold
earrings, wedding ring—

and her silver candlesticks
to the old dairy farmer who agreed
to hide her in the ground, the opening

In my dream we are two best friends
Lying on our bellies reading comic books
strewn across your bedroom floor.
The sugar rush from the wad of Big League gum
we’re chewing is assurance that we’ll be up all night reading
The Fantastic Four, Captain America, and Superman
back when they were seventy-five cents.
We hang loose at your parents’ house
because my mother is afraid we’ll break something,
that we’ll track in dirt from playing outside.