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Loveexpand_morei stored away in my mama’s empty perfume bottles smells and stories
Insomnia! There is a sickly romance to the affliction—initially.
She had not anticipated that the nightstands would be an issue.
It’s been months, and the fields are good for nothing but night talks.
“Why do we always fight,” he finally said, his voice quiet, resigned.
This is all there is. Nothing else. No heaven and no hell, okay?
The women wanted signs of regret, but she was straight shouldered.
It’s true, I killed my husband. I had my reasons. He was a hunter on the trail.
The Village wasn’t really a village. No walnut trees. Just cut flowers.
The end’s already in motion, the end was starting this whole time.
Xin Bao had gotten drunk and stolen a hyacinth macaw.
The letters combine into words that resurrect the beloved every time.
She’s not the same, her body more naked in its aging, its disorder.
If I had known I would have saved the abacus from the fire.
Having a sister or a friend is like sitting at night in a lighted house.
Once upon a time, a couple wandered in a glass forest, hand in hand.
Relief workers tore swaths of insulation from the rafters of the house.
Doctor Dressler left her a note: Suicide. Back by 7:00. Love, Max.
Children, this is what a bad dream looks like, our teacher said.
I sometimes have to laugh because even now, as a middle-aged man.
We are each other’s as surely as song stitches breath to air.
The proper qualities of each sex are eternally surprising to the other.
A man drunk on the damage he made to a boy’s young mouth.
Warm breath in my ear mouthing a name; rivulet folded back in water.
My dear, even my ear is trying to eat itself in its attempt to forget you.
“How is it fair that you know who I am but I have to guess about you?”
I needed more. I worked her lips back and wedged my hand in.
Laurie Saurborn Young
He was reading Our Town. She studied the departure board.
