I am ready to have less of loss—a thought that comes to me now that I’m used to having lossall around, shows up as I walk past the freshly cut field near the spotwhere my mother-in-law broke both her ankles, bleeding heartsstubborn on the terrace. Some want the poem to come for themfrom the sky…
people like to say, though younever liked when I said itabout this painting, your portraitof a sad clown—your favorite kind.Hair mussed, her greasepaintfaint but still there, she stares outinto an empty place beyondthe unframed canvas. What can I sayto make her stir? Even as a kid,I knew immediately—it was you, Mom.“Not a self-portrait,” you insisted,though…
“How much are you willing to sacrifice?”the spandex-suited antagonist asksin the movie I have decided to rentalmost without thought, it being Friday, late,my wife’s body sprawled impressivelyacross the couch so that I decide, finally,to sit slouched on the floor beneathmy pile of blankets, but now, in the dark,my nose close to the screen, the villainspeaking…
Near Chinatown, at the intersection waiting for the light, an older Chinese woman blurts out, “Nice dress. 4 or 6?” “Oh, I used to be a 6,” she says when I confirm her guess, “now I’m an 8 or 10.” Chagrin lingers in the air, and I want so badly a rescue from the body,…
I’ve stood in the shape of myself, became well-meaning, started letters with dear. I taught paper to fly, heard animals hide themselves in me, like sex inside houses, like centuries inside histories. A bearded man, who pretended to be a philosopher, a fatalist even, came to me, set a circle before me and said nothing that…
Windswept moors and dirty villages, returning home to a place no longer home, love triangles—when my own triangle began. How could this happen, I wondered. I’d been so devout and chaste, like a Hardy character—at the beginning. Eustacia Vye and Clym Yeobright felt even more real to me with my newfound experience, how you can…
Like Paul in the Bible you said. No morethe Chad we knew. Can’t call it a surprise.You never stuck with anything for long. LittleLeague teams or foster homes where others quicklyfilled your place. It’s only fitting for “Paul” to havea new wife, kids. School district free from skidmarks you left from a burnout in front of…
a tangle of wings and abdomens slappingthe windowpane. My first instinct was to annihilate them. My next instinctto pamper them, to lay out a buffet of egg-enticing garbage, the shriveledstrawberries languishing in the fridge put to use at last. I wanted to learnto regard the divine not with ambivalence, but the insouciance of my dog’sgroggy…
R. F. Fortune, Sorcerers of Dobu (1932) They say he slept with his wifeLast night—but did he sleepWith his wife or was sheFar away? With an empty skinBy his side he slept. It looks for sure like he sleptWith his wife, but who’s to sayThat was her by his sideAnd not the hide she leftAs away she…
No products in the cart.