Love Songs for End Times
By Zoë Fay-Stindt I sing to the green anole in a made-up lizard language— fiddling tongue, whirlwinds and whistle- clucks. He curves his neck, ear hole craned to my porch perch. He pinks his bubble-throat. For years, I saw devil horns peeking from each human head. Yes, the chemical, the highway framed with fields and [...]