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Loveexpand_moreI lift my wine flask, drunk with rivers and hills.
I hadn’t always liked being around my mother while she was alive.
I commute to war five days a week in a station wagon the color of an egg.
I opened my eyes and they burned; I closed them and saw my father.
Some days Barbie Chang wants to hang up her Asian boots.
His mouth hardens whenever their son’s name is mentioned.
The dead children were wheeled away, covered with white sheets.
I hate it here, but I’ll make the best of it, because that’s what mothers do.
I was all alone in a little room, nothing but that big gun in my face.
Am I here without me just as I was before when stars spoke.
My advice is to take advice with a grain of salt.
It is only the failures of love that I regret, those times when I did not give myself so generously.
You can get anyone to sleep with you—if you want it bad enough.
I am always hungry & wanting to have sex. This is a fact.
I wish to see the land release my heart from the corpse of longing.
what happens in all these villages after we ride through them?
I looked out at the busy world, and I saw nothing but its ugly bones.
In your postpartum state, your best hope is to bluff your way through.
He phones from across the country after lying in the grass with another.
She has wings of rouge on her cheekbones, her beak blood red.
Bees may not be bought. Our children may never know apples.
It is music opening and closing, Italia mia, on Bleecker, ciao, Antonio.
In three years he had made her forget that blindness meant not seeing.
With a couple, there must be one who outlives the other: the survivor.
He sees the slight swelling of her breasts in the open collar of her blouse.
Maybe she was a stereotype now: a single woman with a cat.
“You are a strange one,” she says. “Do you want to see my new tattoo?”
A queen bobcat lives in the hollow base of a dead cypress.
She says, It’s so difficult to find a good guy. My lips form a half smile.
When we’re all together like this it feels like hope is a possibility.
