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Into the River Again

My mother used to cry in church seeing a child walk down the aisle.

In’din Curse

May your wife remove her shirt and have an affair with a tornado.

Io and Other Poems

Her body is no longer the source of pleasure but constant pain.

Islands

My wife fell in love with a dancer. A woman. I came here to get away.

Isolation

She sips the coffee and thinks about throwing herself off the balcony.

It Might Be a Hurricane Year

she was right—hurricane being the name of the feeling, the twist of it.

It Was Yoked to a Black Hunger

The raven cocked its black eye, dipped its beak in the red pool.

Italy

They wrapped him in bandages from all three kits. The old man watched them.

Izola

Who cared about a whiff of male exertion and motor oil? Not Lana.

Jumpseat Stories

There’s something about traveling by plane. People tell their secrets.

Just Going Out

I put my hand on my stomach and had an image of the melting snowman.

Karagiozis and the Four-Headed Beast

Takis brought down the demons that would pursue him the rest of his life.

Key

This comb smells like tea gone cold, weighs less than a vein pumped full.

King and Other Poems

The irreversible ink stain breaking the face of whatever we skate on.

Lake of the Meek

Virginia surprises herself: she wants this warmth, wants skin and breath.

Landskein

Instead of attunement, I was given a pair of size 6 Toughskins.

Last Things

My sister says, vicious as possible, “Don’t you dare try to protect me.”

Late Rumspringa

He was afraid he would be sucked into the world like this cousin had.

Layover

The city is lit with all its lights. I’m up in the air. It is yes until I die.

Lazarus rises from the grave, New York City, 2023

poor Larry. you never asked to be raised from your tomb.

Learning the Ancestors’ Tongues and Other Poems

In the republic of pain, we bloom ice bags and crutches on limbs.

Leaving the Gym, I Smoke One Cigarette, Then Another

First a mother puts her child to sleep, then the other way around.

Leaving the Yellow House

After her divorce she took up with a cowboy named Wicks.

Leftovers

He can’t remember the last time they made love. It has become a game.

Letters to Bernadette

Remind the children never to use the state as a metric for ethics.

Liars

Be honest. Writing is about honesty, and articulating that honesty.

Liars

Be honest. Writing is about honesty, and articulating that honesty.

Lieutenant Mason

That’s how a lifetime passes, closing the wound, a million stitches.

Lighted Room

I’m going to cut me some ham and wait for death to lace his boots.

Listening and Other Poems

Break me like bread. Take me apart. Strip each rib down to light.