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Let’s rummage through each other’s bodies like a blowout sale.

Marianne Boruch

At night the voices on the patio sound like small darting birds.

Even the busiest of businessmen are out for the count, paying the price.

Through the dark, we say, through the dark: but do we ever really know?

A child no bigger than small change calls from her window j’ai faim.

What do you offer someone who has lost half of her beginning?

This is the stupid math of loving another human being.

I am veins and breath, the entrance the world passes through.

“What’s the shittiest thing you’ve ever done to someone?” she said.

You don’t know what it’s like to be so hungry that you’d steal to eat.

Her biggest secret was Jay Currie—her white American boyfriend.

If you can be seen, you can be killed. No-man’s-land is everyman’s land.

Like lions in cages, women like me dream . . . of freedom . . .

…a classmate dropped dead, his heart was attacked at thirty-three.

i learned to save lives from a man who reminded me of my father

I walked that land with him, one and mingling, breaking into breath.

We cannot leave it to the forces to rub out the color of the world.

Into the storm, the iridescent cosmos. To the savage dances of sunset.

It was only a matter of time before the damp of loss grew within us like moss.

The body passing through its own fires, the hard escape of it all.

God is there between things, sitting at his own left hand.

There’s no need to check for a pulse, hold a hand mirror for breath.

One spent the better part of this life writing in the dirt with a stick.

She possessed a quality that made one forget all shortcomings.

Play hero, sunburned protagonist, awake in our dream.

Imagine being able to calm the one you love best, who loves you best.

A clumsy coyote descends an old hill of garbage. Death is visiting.

Perhaps the only way to see a whole body is to see one coming out of you.

Unnatural as a ghost; the thought rose unbidden to his mind.