Sometimes,
I hear a dog barking right after I buckle my pants.
Gunshots.
And the geese scatter like blood.
This poem started as an ode for Gianni Versace that quickly morphed into something confessional and something opaque; this poem, at times, resist meaning even as it strives to open up. In some ways, remnants, pieces of Versace’s death are in the short lines of the poem while, at the same time, the poem seeks to not be biographical.
BIO: