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Martyr

The everlasting shines through in the threshold between worlds.

Matins

Before we were ornament, we were names moving in a mouth.

Me, Jodie Lynn Malone

I looked up how much everything would cost. Giving birth: $9,000.

Medial Tibial Stress Syndrome

When you turn fifty, you have to prove to yourself you’ve got something left.

Meditation Having Felt and Forgotten

Language seems accomplice to grieving, everything dissolves.

Memorial

He was shirtless and showcasing a large tattoo of the Twin Towers.

Men Against Violence

You’re feminist? Neither one of you. You just like getting into fights.

Men and Dogs

Praise the ease of it: how simple it is to tell the dog he loves her.

Midland

The blackness of her hair seemed to pull the color from her body.

Mike Tyson Explains Middle Age to John Keats

Stable-keeper’s kids know broken then healed, but healed with limits.

Mikveh

The attendant instructs remember, immerse three times.

Military Ball

Fletcher was a squad leader. He ought to be able to get a girl.

Mind Loves

Who mind loved would not rather be loved body too. Since all is all.

Miracle of Lights / Ode to My Imperfect Love

It was as the angel speaking of Isaac, a deception, a test to survive.

Miscellany

The small, inadequate marks follow the outline, things left behind.

Mise en Place

Smoke and stock and toasted chili flakes. The garlic at marshmallow tan.

Miss Burma

All that existed was Louisa’s beauty—or Khin’s refashioning of it.

Miss Harriet

I am going to relate to you the most lamentable love affair of my life.

Missing Shapes and Other Poems

What small song do you sing under your breath that is only for you?

Mist

Of all she taught me I like best the lore of spray-on cologne.

Most Beautiful

It was hard to know what memories or images had marked him.

Motherland

She wags her index finger so furiously that I’m certain it will snap off.

Mother’s Night

She’s coming back, her arms full of the flowers I gave her once a year.

Moving to Connecticut

The dead men don’t look like themselves or anybody else.

Museum and Other Poems

Some days it seems like enough to look in the glass for glazed relief.

Musings

Heaven preserve me from the Epidemic of a Proud Ignorance!

My Civil War

Grant had a lot of buttons on that coat—when he wore it.

My Fourth Fall

What were the unsafe things to say even in a thirty-year marriage?

My Milk

I keep dripping milk until I’m sitting in a pool of it, sticky, white. I can’t move.

My Mother’s Marathons

It is not surprising that her solo marathon did not turn out as planned.