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Loveexpand_moreYou 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.
I ask that now I be allowed to see the one my vision has been denied.
There was a time when all I wanted was go back. Ask all the questions.
She pulls quickly on her cigarette and blows it at me through the phone.
The ego with which we began filters away as love accumulates below.
The snow on the windshield a tunnel of wings my friend is driving through.
That there are five sturdy red Gerber daisies in a jar on the table.
Three lives I flicked alight with a few match scrapes. I cupped them.
It was a Tuesday, so they made love. She thought it was a fair compromise.
Sometimes the phone would ring and ring, and I’d go answer. It was him.
“I have always had a gift of feeling what is in other people’s hearts.”
I could page the women’s voices in their velvet bags bound with string.
I have seen your ocean. I have heard your waves beside my bed.