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Wellfleet

This morning drifts of sand hissed along the shore like mist.

What It Requires

I am part dumb, and blind, and deaf, and untasting and unfeeling.

What We Learned

It was the truth of it all—hunger’s chill, the scream beneath the surface.

What We Left Behind

The Others came in the light of day and splayed Father open.

What We Once Needed to Know

We are good at thinking we can stay. We are good at finding hurt.

What You Get

There was nothing sadder than the look of defeat in a man’s eyes.

Whatever Is the Matter

There is something on my mind rushing up as river in a locked car.

Whatever You Can

Cat food smells even unopened like vomit and I don’t trust cats.

What’s Happening

Where will we go and how will we steer when the cars are gone?

When Giving Is All We Have

You gave me blue and I gave you yellow. Together we are green.

When He Left: Index of First Lines

What I became was not pretty. Like a needle on water-warped paper.

When My Brother Tells Me I'm Obsessed with Sadness

it’s hard not to be obsessed with your own shadow I don’t tell him

When Things That Never Happen Happen

The next time we made love, I looked for the fox looking down at me.

When You Can No Longer Talk about It, You Have to Sing

I had forgotten how to breathe, and then I learned again, all at once.

Where Are We Going?

I hightailed it out of the hospital like my ex-wife was a prison I’d escaped.

Whippoorwill

A whippoorwill called, a lonely voice among the cedars.

Whirlwind

The lion was still near them, stalking. Crazed against its cautionary nature.

White Fish

There isn’t a nice Jewish boy in sight—not that I’m looking for one.

White Houses

I open the door and Eleanor is leaning against the wall, paper white.

White Moon Rising

I never actually existed. I didn’t know it at the time, but it’s clear as day.

White Nights

Can there have been something in my letter, that unlucky letter?

Whitecaps

“I don’t think I can do this,” she says, after a pause. “I don’t trust you.”

Who Are You With?

Lydda, when she closes her eyes, has traded one war zone for another.

Wife 22

We’re stuck floating around on the surface of our lives like kids in a pool.

Will Write Soon

I live for now in the second house of having asked a favor from a friend.

Winter

The gravest season and least understood is more than pale heads

Winter 1940

You have your apron on under your coat. We’ve got each other.

Winter Birds

The nights she and Wade have sex she can’t do so without feeling guilty.

Winter Dreams

Dexter was unconsciously dictated to by his winter dreams.

Winter Missive

I feel unnatural, half a human face smothered in deep light.