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For John Ashbery, in thanks We are long-lived, with bodiesthat tend to outlast the mind.But not you, Tootsie Roll.You had a holster of highlightersin a million shades, and you’d use themto mark arrangements of bluespruce in a cartoonishly repeating landscape.Fossil teeth, or a dark motif not unlikethe clean surface of a lakestanding up for the…

I might have guessed,running the streets that night, running each rightdown the middle, not meeting a car, rain soakingand so soft, my arms held out for the lastcorner to the house, that the dark figureon the porch swing would be my mother, the night and stormand night’s storm like a sentence she could no longer…

things might have been otherwise. Everyone remembersthat time she walked in with flowerssewn onto the hem of her dress, charming to allbut the flowers, and the fingers of outside lightnow lacking those flowers to act upon, and the passerby beereturning to find nothing there, and the drinking rootdone drinking. Everyone knows a backward step may…

You took my hand and took me to the train.The sky inhaled above us as we ran.The weather was suspended like a crane.The woman’s hand was taken by the man.The train was in suspension on its tracks.The woman took her ticket from her pocket.You left me at the train and then went back.The weather was…

Our matriarch says we’re not a cemetery-visiting family, but she knows who is:the next of kin who sent the telephonefashioned entirely of flowers with the banner Jesus Called, Debbie Answered. Tonight, no wake,no funeral procession. Instead, we crack glowbracelets on the beach. Float seaweed bouquetsknotted with washed-up bits of fishing line. We hold open a…