2371 17 11
|
She is cutting his hair. The wind is in her curls. She rises and falls like a sleeping animal. He has removed his shirt. There is a towel around his neck, the smell of spice and banana, the scent of vacations. You are reminded of the time in the beach house in Florida…
|
1483 17 13
|
She lies on her stomach by the side of the pool staring into her towel. On her back, I can make out a pastel isthmus, surgery's pink art or charlatan's scab, I can't tell which. She is beautiful as rare roast beef is beautiful.
|
214 17 10
|
Whenever my mother’s will-to-live wavered and her hand reached out for the electric fence, my ash would whisper, “Live, live.”
|
1546 17 10
|
Some idiot was gonna let a snake eat him. I know, but I saw it on the internets. That's some dumb-assed stuff right there. Everyone knows about snakes. The Jesus book tells us all about them, inside us, slithering through ruby-red and eating our guilt from inside out.…
|
2202 17 14
|
my foreign mouth embarrassed the teachers. my jumbled words gave people sad faces. so wrong these words of mine. even the mentally retarded girl would not talk to me. just looking at my garbled mouth made her slap herself. and my writing. oh no. my writin
|
1752 17 11
|
I fired God today. He wasn't showing up for work, slept through meetings, wrote ambiguous memos and killed too many innocents. Things just weren't working out.
|
1261 17 9
|
A young girl wavering between celibacy and punk mother-lust despair came to visit us each night
|
1582 17 10
|
The leaves are telegrams sent from the branches to the wind, saying, “it's over stop don't send kisses stop forget me.”
|
1702 17 12
|
|
1748 17 7
|
Since the divorce had gone final, the matter settled once and for all, he’d taken to a masochistic bingo of sorts.
|
2041 17 9
|
I have been mother
to a hundred soldiers,
holding their hands
barely knowing
their names
|
1954 17 12
|
"If Hillary can forgive Bill, why can't you forgive Dad?" my seven-year-old son wails one night as I put him to bed.
|
2133 17 12
|
The sea dies where a cello torques on sand, leaving me without its compass. An old clock sings.
|
981 17 9
|
The cornbread for dressing cools./
The cranberries boil with one cup each/
of sugar and water. The aromas are nice
|
1223 17 10
|
Another new spring and the leaves
|
1340 17 8
|
When I was young and self-born in religion my aunts, uninterested in being washed in the Blood of Christ, called me Preacher Boy. I didn't pay them any attention. It was fine by me, I said, if they wanted to sit around and paint their toenails . . .
|
1560 17 15
|
Before the days of “customer experience,” Eddie figured out whatever information he could about his clients. He asked them for business cards, recorded their phone numbers from the reservation book, snapped photos of them in his mind…
|
1409 17 15
|
Sometimes he made us punch pillows. "Harder!" the shrink would yell.
|
1404 17 6
|
The Viper turns so quickly that Father's grabbing hand now faces its head instead of its tail.
|
1368 17 9
|
Shakespeare had red hair / Van Gogh never painted a nude
|
840 17 10
|
I hate turnstiles and revolving doors
|
1552 17 10
|
“What are you doing, Maestro?"
|
1793 17 6
|
A young man pushes a stroller filled with a sleepy child. A young woman strides alongside them, her gait leisurely. They are the first to visit the park today. The trees loom, vigilant.
|
1654 17 5
|
I try to help my pet-mouse by dangling cheese from a piece of string in front of him. Or by making meow sounds. Sometimes, my pet-mouse wins, sometimes the hamster with the great body.
|
1675 17 13
|
No fear of that, / he assured her,
|
1716 17 15
|
When you prime tobacco the old way . . .
|
1355 17 9
|
watch/
the second hand sweep
|
1552 17 6
|
Tasha loved to tease the rain. She sat still with her legs folded on the bench, never once looking the clouds in the eye.
|
1224 17 9
|
This will be the century of infinite sadness,/
sadder even than the Twentieth/
with its expansive catalog of horrors.
|
2491 17 11
|
But I didn't sleep well and my dreams were full of octopi
|