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It’s Sarah’s old-bone incredulity wrecked by the coos of borne-out prophecy. It’s Jacob learning that his son’s not dead, the brothers scrubbed of blood they long thought shed. It’s...

The clouds are fused with amber fire As vultures climb a dirgy gyre, Babel building with each bird, Glutted on the primal Word. Later one lights on my head,...

The sky pools red this Hallowtide.We enter, ease into a pew,And whisper prayers for those who died,For relatives she never knew. They’re my lost souls. She wears all blackFor...