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A Son of Baghdad

For me, Selweh was the real magic. She was nothing like my mother.

A Spinster’s Tale

When he had passed from view, I stumbled back from the window.

A Sport and a Pastime

She is complaisant with all her clothes off. She moves to his touch.

A Storyteller’s Story

Americans have always a kind of tenderness for cheat.

A Taste for Winter

She is very rich. She will leave me everything when she dies, he says.

A Theory and Other Poems

I have, in the long solitude of my body, asked for something else.

A Trick of the Light

My desire to be in sync with him had nearly been my undoing.

A Trout in the Milk

How much simpler and more satisfying was the company of men.

A Walkabout in Andrew Wyeth’s Painting and Other Poems

My bike, my skinny body, my pent breath was thrown to the grass.

A Weary Desperado

I was convinced she’d be back in the morning, like the sun.

A Wedding Story

The chocolate was old, dusty white, the way chocolate gets after many years.

A Windfall

She flicked a bit of citrus on her tongue. Her laugh was hard and high.

A. Roolette? A. Roolette?

She remembers that golden ocean, the promise of a whole new land.

A. Roolette? A. Roolette?

She remembers that golden ocean, the promise of a whole new land.

About Suffering and Other Poems

How much, I thought, such stolid suffering resembles love. Planets don’t change direction as easily as love.

Accounting

There was something in her voice, some awful, enduring fire.

Acorns

The guards ripped off Mara’s clothes, pinning her head against the wall.

Adam’s Curse

To articulate sweet sounds together is to work harder than all these.

Adventures of a Would-Be Filmmaker

Since I am in my seventies, it is now or never, and I know it.

Aeneas Leaves Kansas

All night the insects’ grinding jaws chewed through the darkness.

Affliction Parish and Other Poems

He tuned the future backward as he left the ringing water to reclaim me.

After It

I sit next to a man I never loved but let kiss me wetly for two months.

After Music

“I’m torturing you,” she said. “It isn’t fair.” Now I saw there were tears.

After Saddam

He said he had come back to the prison because it was home.

Afternoon Happiness

Here is my aphorism of the day: Happy people are monogamous.

Aim High Olongapo

From the flight deck Gray could see home, wherever that might be.

Alimony

I’m mourning in the armpits of a lover we once called a family friend.

All the Wrecks I’ve Crawled Out Of

I was thinking sex, she was thinking sex, but neither of us made a move.

Allergy

Had I always known this would happen? There had been no signs.

Alluvium

He longed only for Claire’s strange seriousness, her silent focus.