in her blossom days,
swallow, a strike-
slip fault parrying
inane classmates, who
supposed their words
should be hers.
trusted her father’s box
wrenches, but wary
of his single purpose
delight. her lab-safe
Bunsen, a one
notion burner, blue
flame, catalysis hot,
to light, as her
back to basic. her
as she dimmed,
The Seam of Things
We were blending curry. Coriander, the wren
in the bird bath, let us know he wasn’t fucking
turmeric. Water will let you call it by any name.
Loose edges agree with anything. When I rub
your lines, parts of me are shaved off, disappear
in your dark. The best of you feels me map your
boundaries, slip your weirs, whet your ridges. Still
my skin has purchase on your razor. Distinction
troubles water—Sicilian dark, Ghana black,
Norway white. Water would have us washed
to one blood stretched to glass. I would live
in the beauty of distinction; the seam of things
stitched with braided thread and bone needle.
We travel together tight. Coriander speaks.
Chiron is a research administrator for Oregon State University. He is the father of two daughters and lives in the Portland area with his wife. Before life in Oregon, he was a stage actor (before the children), a journeyman printer, a restaurant owner and computer systems manager. He is currently pursuing his MFA in writing at OSU - Cascades.