Matthew Rowe


You are who trilogies are written about
Blue hour
Madrone tree
One day cheek kisses in public
We are topless on the roof
The dirt under my fingernails
says I’ve been doing something
We loved so hard a top row
of mason jars shattered
I still think about trying to despise
cheese anything
We are in Costa Rica
Doing what people do there
I dig with my pocketknife
You rehearse ways to escape
The heat
Some tourists consider snorkeling
The small pool of sweat
Collecting in the small of your back


Matthew Rowe is a poet/farmer currently living in Brooklyn, New York. He grew up in the desert and keeps a lot of his heart in the Redwoods. Previous work has appeared in Funeral Parade, Sunset Magazine, and on street corners spanning the Pacific Northwest.