Poem in Which I Disappear in My Own Life
I pull a thistle from the dirt
in the middle of Texas,
I peer over the edge of Lover’s Leap
and count beer cans and condoms,
I leave my footprint in a creek bed.
In the middle of Texas,
my uncle sits me down on his couch
and says, “I need to tell you my dream
about the son I never knew.… Read the rest