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His thoughts swirl around him. Maybe women aren’t women anymore.

you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens her first rose

Beached on the kingdom I learned to swim with my eyes closed.

Ahab went mad when he saw the sea is just the sea and nothing more.

If you are hidden treasure, mine, don’t let me lose what I have gained.

How can you love them and yet how could you live
without them?

My first memory is the day of mourning after John Lennon died.

The wind was like a girl sobbing out her story of betrayal to the stars.

Maybe all of it was possible. Maybe it all could work out.

Maybe this was one thing in his life he had done right, or so he hoped.

My cry for the first time fastened garlands of hope to the roof.

Here they were, two surviving soldiers from opposite sides.

Death will come for us so fast we will never be able to outrun it.

You remind me of lizards birthed in an outhouse by an ogre or a loon.

“It means,” Stoner said again, and could not finish what he had begun.

Weird that yellow’s the color of cowardice when the sun never runs.

It was half the Spanish he knew—stop, I have a shotgun.

My sister’s fever wasn’t gone at all, but dazzling—suspended over us.

All my life I have noted that my thinking was atavistic, totemic.

What was she thinking, driving alone to see a man she’d never met?

I stuff cotton in my ears, bits of bird’s nest, anything to stop all that talk.

Three rooms, sight unseen, rented from a nurse and her husband.

Cassandra blared Puccini and Eminem so she would not pray.

The first time we were alone, I knew it before he even told me.

We cling to an exact number of planets, to the Earth Our Mother.

Ghost still pace Georgia, hungry for babies, for husbands.

She was thinking about what she would say when the time came.

No, you may not walk there. No, you may not stand on that. He is not here.

“Aren’t you full of surprises,” Talinda would have said. If she had known.

My children, children, remember to let me go, delete my number.