I was at a party for the end of the world. I came so I wouldn’t be alone. I guess so did all the other women. They must<a class="more" href="/web_features/none-of-this-is-a-metaphor">... more</a>
my parents taught me to say ‘surrender’
in a dozen foreign languages.
We were listening to the bombing over the radio while my mother drove me to confirmation class that night. The radio said We<a class="more" href="/web_features/for-all-my-strangers">... more</a>
I could take my hands off. Just unlock them at the wrists, snap them off like the heads of artificial flowers. As long as<a class="more" href="/web_features/goodbye-mary-goodbye-jane">... more</a>
That winter my mother takes me to her country, a little place on the equator I had not yet seen.
the night of the attack
mother did you hear them
they had tongues like lightning
and forked through the forest
shooting the<a class="more" href="/web_features/2-poems--65">... more</a>
The man keeps thinking about the power lines—the ones that are strung over his house.
Sometimes at night, he can hear them up there,<a class="more" href="/web_features/power-lines">... more</a>
I don't like most people. And have been jealous of Bud for ages. With reason.
Is there ever a time to think of poetry? Of poets? Of the rivers of the delta?
rabbit bones, rabbit lives