Bathroom Ghazal

It’s surprising how often I’ll dream of poop— hallways littered with it, or me looking in vain for a bathroom. My mother used to say: a dream of teeth fallen out of your mouth is a bad omen, but poop’s okay. Detained in the bathroom, my father liked to take his time reading the paper …

Ghazal of Rain

This is the only time machine with a curtain: all night and all day, blue beads of clicking rain. A skylight amplifies the pinging of the oldest message: you thought you forgot, but here it is again, in the rain. Towels grow damp from moisture in the bath— And then the air takes them, infuses …