Where Only the Hungry Can Follow You perceive the sky before you when you perceive me, my body, a wide breathless place of light. We don’t so much fly as shake off our skins and tumble up. We’ve always been ready to lift our feet from this earth, to bind ourselves with wind to the…

Seraphim —after Dzvinia Orlowsky This is the hour of churchyard haze, the slow light of the sun gathered around the heads of saints. Dusk pauses to gather songbirds in a grey sack. I am a sanctuary, razed by fire. The priests being to descend, one by one, to pick through my debris for sins. I…