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The Bodyexpand_moreFumbling among the constellations, I believed my throat would burst.
My childhood is a city where tenderness was frowned upon.
Why do you keep so much from your husband, don’t you trust him?
That year, the mail would arrive as white as warning, as flashing teeth.
Splayed toes adhesive on a whitewashed wall, ghost-tattoo.
Imagine being able to calm the one you love best, who loves you best.
It’s the human genius of reproducing not quite exactly.
I’d leave the house at night and walk the road, knowing I was watched.
What I want is a woman who knows all the meanings of indulgence.
Perhaps the only way to see a whole body is to see one coming out of you.
Such longings: Errant. Verdant. To have a good time. And dream.
Instead, she stares right at us, her shoulder half-naked in broad daylight.
She couldn’t have carried knowledge their kind would soon be extinct. The sediment came when it did, sealing them in their varied positions.
This skinny blonde steps on the stage in a skimpy Balinese costume.
Brain an inkblot liquor stain until the heroine blinks the coma away.
Just give me a small joy, say, the size of a ketchup packet.
Her knees seemed about to give way, and he quickly grabbed her elbow.
There was a ladder planted dead center in a field of high, thin grass.
The night before my mother’s double mastectomy, we went skinny-dipping.
You are home in your bed like a soft animal with really intense feelers.
I wonder why I feel bound to the gray-dry skin of you, the barrenness of feet.
Walking on Canal Street, I slipped on the curb and fell on my face.
A scene from the night before comes rushing forward like a dream.
you cut through brush with the iron edge you push before you
Oh, won’t you lie here darling whistlepigs, here, curled at my side?
Picture the thing you want most. True love? A new car? Let it go.
The barman emanated paranoia, the male customers sat introspecting.
The year we left the reservation a white boy gave me a trash bag.
The story of Wing Biddlebaum’s hands is worth a book in itself.
Your life is your own and then suddenly it belongs to someone else.
