Two Poems in Cold Mountain Review

Large shapes move into sight and hover directly before us. The seals are
bloated and still. Rot-darkened flesh hangs from glimmers of bone; their
eyes, swollen like canned plums about to burst, stare past us.
— "Dream of Seals, Circling"
I wouldn’t mind the company. Then there’d be two
of us to wait, feasting and sky-burrowed, knee to
forehead, forehead to knee
— "What Happened in the Branches"