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Women & Menexpand_moreKitty reached the age of twenty-five and was still unmarried.
Just before four in the morning, the dog barks, the headlights appear.
Mafia didn’t like me, except for the tickling game. It went like this.
She is eight years old and doesn’t recognize the word divorce.
It had been four weeks and five days since she confronted him.
Once she had loved him. When had she stopped? She did not know.
On her sixty-second birthday Marge Olson got a call, not a gift.
He’ll probably try to get her in the sack, just to stay in practice.
Stop her there, on the bank of knowingness, just before spring.
She must know she was a mistake, what they call now a surprise.
“I hope the scumbag rots in jail,” he yelled into the quiet night.
In the rooms you picked up what you liked, like shells on a beach.
We chose to stay in the brutality of that night, even as the girls walked away.
We were in a play about affection. We were in a play about sex.
“Now, just what brought you down all this way?” they wanted to know.
The pain lithified to numbness, and she recalled the time of his courtship.
Joanie’s face was something she’d borrowed from Miró, from Picasso.
My friend Angela, who is also my roommate, got me into stripping.
When he kisses me, my heart flutters in my chest like swarming bees.
What humanity needed was that gravity-defying miracle, the bird.
Sing so dogs bark, oxen bolt. Sing so a girl walks out on her lover.
The tomatoes weren’t there. She looked again at the ground.
What’s a man supposed to do when his best friend is a falcon?
If mine, then, is a religious Offence, leave it to religious Punishments.
This would not be a wooing meal. I was cooking my man into submission.
They’d been together an hour, but they were an easy threesome.
She often feels something kinetic between herself and younger men.
“As your brother, I ask you, how did you get that scar on your face?”
There would be no one to live for; she would live for herself.
Taller than most women, Sojourner Truth seemed to rise a little higher.
