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My own hunger was for a reduction in the vast space between people.

Help me, please help me, is the beggar’s refrain on the F train today.

He has his hands on Nii’s throat, and this time I do not stop them.

The first rule of the house is that everything must be even stevens.

“I can’t believe she’s drinking,” she said. “I just can’t believe it.”

Let him search, Tricia thought, who knew what he might discover.

She wears her nakedness like it has been woven from air.

My “lonelymaking.” Also known as my horrible secret, continent-wide.

What’s left is a thumbhouse, an inch of gristle inside skin walls.

My brother could Wichita wheelbarrow like I never could.

A homecoming, she says, as if you hadn’t been back in decades.

He had looked on it a thousand times and it never failed to kill him.

Craig Bueltel

When the population was whiter, they fawned over the Korean.

Morie Johnson was successful. I am not a hooker. I am only a thief.

“Wanna give it a go?” my brother asks, nudging me with his 12-gauge.

We fed our dreams inevitable sins, the kind you lie about till you grow mean.

She always came back with her lipstick smeared all over her mouth.

The Others came in the light of day and splayed Father open.

it’s hard not to be obsessed with your own shadow I don’t tell him

I had forgotten how to breathe, and then I learned again, all at once.

Lydda, when she closes her eyes, has traded one war zone for another.

Our eyes searched for the island, but ahead there was only overcast.

She was painting a bedroom, trying to be a good mother, wife, Catholic.