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Even Medusa was beautiful once, before the sea, snakes, stone. Any chimera is regal if you turn a certain way. Even Medusa was beautiful.

My hands only knew. The painkillers in our mothers’ cabinets.

I want something warm that won’t feel shame lying over me.

Let me tell you stories about lands far from here where you are absent.

A more typical writing day for me is being constantly interrupted.

I simply wrapped my arms around Maxey and held on for dear life.

The dope worked, though he felt ashamed using it, smoked in secret.

The owners of the rental left three gifts on the kitchen table for us to enjoy.

The baby won’t sleep until 2 a.m., not until he poops and throws up.

She knew Jim would be a terrible husband. They’d murder each other.

I am desperate to love myself, to tolerate myself, vanity is fine.

I walk across the fields with only a few young cows for company.

Some goals: stop buying jeans. Stop being angry at mom/dad/sister.

Ten years ago, when I was in college, my father divorced my mother and said he wanted me to become responsible for her. That is why I fled to Italy.

I hang there, upside down, watching Bronwyn, her face beatific.

He had seduced them with his sincerity for truth-seeking.

We wondered at their habits and gave them little poems for names.

Isn’t Nightshade sad, people said; isn’t he pathetic; isn’t he hideous.

Just sugar cubes and a crop for you. Salt licks to smart the tongue.

I hear pleasure ringing, and I wonder what led us to this moment.

It’s been months, and the fields are good for nothing but night talks.

When an old man marries a young piece of flesh, she is the ruler.

Here is the fat guy whose Chihuahua gnawed through his stomach.

The Village wasn’t really a village. No walnut trees. Just cut flowers.

Goretti was a victim perfect for her time, an icon of Catholic sexual politics.

She’d ransacked his heart the moment she unlocked the door.

Fearing for them, I clustered them together, then cut them off.

She’s not the same, her body more naked in its aging, its disorder.

my grandparents lay in a room listening to their legs rub together

Mostly, though, you could turn them in your hand, hold them to your nose.