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The Bodyexpand_moreShe pulls quickly on her cigarette and blows it at me through the phone.
It was comforting to see her suffer the way we suffer, hollowed out.
Centrifugal force circled the beasts until they swirled airborne.
A woman pushing a walker understands—gravel can be pain.
I have seen your ocean. I have heard your waves beside my bed.
Raw, glistening—god’s design. Her newborn flesh-on-the-bone.
It was good they were Africans, she thought. It meant less danger.
It comes as no surprise that everything is flying toward one point.
Anytime I drifted off I wished to wake up against a cold, silent body.
It’s a mistake to be here, he thinks, but he doesn’t turn around.
She is a stalk, exhausted. She will surround these bones with flesh.
Watch out. That we thought him gone only proves his wily knowledge.
I open the gift: a small ocelot, its mouth a cave, pearl teeth waiting.
They tried to kill us, my sisters, mother, and me; I still have the scars.
If you didn’t listen you would think it was a cry for help or sympathy.
“I might surprise you,” Mr. Maxi said. Polly hoped he’d go all out.
I walk and I rest while the eyes of my dead look through my own.
Don’t tell him you’re a virgin, says Peggy. You’ll freak him out.
We went flying without a map as naked astronauts often do.
We buy a bag of cockles and three crabs, all female, sweet with egg.
The underworld reached out for your hand and found payment.
He’s clear about his wishes: to die in this house, in his own bed.
Ambition and coincidence had led me to the Royal Theatre.
“I can’t die, I don’t want to die, I love life,” Prince Andrei thought.
In the truck’s bed, resting where a dog’s might—the dead deer’s head.
They caught those few of us left unclaimed by the one emotion, or the other.
In exchange for our labor, we would each be given a new set of clothes.
I don’t think I was very frightened. I was simply hungry for home.
When I cried the tears felt so ineffective next to the ocean.
He tossed her over his head like a ballerina, one rough hand on each hip.
