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Weird that yellow’s the color of cowardice when the sun never runs.

No one is dead, but you should come back. See what’s become of us.

This is a place where young girls are butchered in old-time songs.

What was she thinking, driving alone to see a man she’d never met?

For the first two months of class, Toby did barely any writing at all.

We cling to an exact number of planets, to the Earth Our Mother.

When I saw my father for the last time, we both did the same thing.

Sometimes the phone would ring and ring, and I’d go answer. It was him.

Everyone is talking about the end of the world. Why now? Why today?

A dwarf is now crying, he sounds swollen but golden with malediction.

For the first time in her life she stood naked in the open air.

This poem weaves human and earthly hurt together in just a few short lines.

She is a stalk, exhausted. She will surround these bones with flesh.

Watch out. That we thought him gone only proves his wily knowledge.

“Look down,” I said, comb in hand. “Let me check behind your ears.”

If you didn’t listen you would think it was a cry for help or sympathy.

This is not America! It is not the America I grew up in, it’s
a joke.

Some women have all the tit out hip out flat of the hand & tone of voice.

It was as if my dead husband was flowing within me now, like blood.

I have to say I am relieved it is over: at the end I could feel only pity.

In that great darkness could I explain anything, anything at all.

However hard I trudge and search I cannot find the hills I have climbed.

They caught those few of us left unclaimed by the one emotion, or the other.

It had taken Thursdale seven years to form this fine talent.

When I saw her, I was witness and weapon both, charging at her.

Each harbored a sense that a family of three was not a real family.

When I cried the tears felt so ineffective next to the ocean.

It stood across a narrow side alley where light-green ivy grew.

The field wants to stretch the hours, wants to be empty for us.