Dispatches from a Dead Language

When I started to learn Latin, I saw it everywhere. Location played a big role in this — Latin seems woven into the regional character of Italy, where I undertook a summer course in the language in a three-week intensive program at the University of Bologna. Bologna was sweltering, the streets in the center of

I AM – a poem

I am my umbilical cord My mother’s sleepless nights My father’s long drives I am the scent in my mother’s wardrobe The high heels I never fit I am the ingrained institutionalized religion Founded on fear. I am the shame and the guilt The vagina I am the black eyeliner I draw around my eyes