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Tithing

My mother’s house was packed, painted, put up for sale—sold.

To Flee the Kingdom and Other Poems

Help me, please help me, is the beggar’s refrain on the F train today.

To Hart Crane

Now he chuckles with the sea, stitched within its timeless jive.

To Save a Butterfly

Yes, Eylon thought, he lied to Cath. Lied about his day, about the risks.

To This God I Will Say

He has his hands on Nii’s throat, and this time I do not stop them.

Tookies

“I don’t care how tired we are. I’m not not having sex on my wedding night.”

Top Dog

“The kiels take extra time, but then you know your meats. Questions?”

Trapline

The first murder had been a half dozen years ago in a warmer city.

Triage

A dead body leaned sideways against a wall. Its eyes were open.

Triptych

One of us broke away, cooled, and died, having never fully lived.

Troy

Ajax can answer all this killing only with the killing of himself.

Trying Too Hard and Other Poems

Slice a finger while opening a beer can, fizz the gin high in tumblers.

Tuol Sleng

We press closer to look at a picture: a handcuffed boy leaning toward us.

Tuscumbia

Let him search, Tricia thought, who knew what he might discover.

Tuskers

He was alongside without preamble. Elephants are not stealthy by nature.

Twenties Nouveau

Histories we spin from lust, our tongues heavy and soaked.

Two Appeals

My love swims you, your shoulders like hard sails under the green curls.

Two More Gallants

Professor Flacks could tell you everything about James Joyce.

Two Poems

We did not know at the moment of parting that it was a parting.

Two Poems

She only eats condiments, pickles, slices of sharp cheddar.

Two Poems

You were drowning in the bathtub. Mother was in her room.

Two Poems

In that world I was a fish too eager to enter the nets; here, I’m a river.

Two Poems

Not all his children love themselves. Look at little Adrienne.

Two Poems

insomniacs gesturing in a cave of neon light the narrative of their lives

Two Poems

After you have read all you possibly can there may be a few lines left.

Two Poems

Just because we have birds inside us, we don’t have to be cages.

Two Poems

Wicked fictions wrap a young tongue’s sweet-tipped fibs into fact.

Two Poems

A homecoming, she says, as if you hadn’t been back in decades.

Two Poems

What will we do without exile, and a long night that stares at the water?

Two Poems

One day, we will all turn into choir girls—all soft and hollow inside.