I popped open the wine with a Nike shoelace, a trick I learned on the internet

... tomatoes swelling and turning pink...

I have, for example, watched Stanley Kubrick's "The Shining" 117 times.

We were the same and different. I was wild, wild, and she was calm. A pair of dolls we were. Holding hands in thin white dresses. Running through fields. Spying on boys. Making small things from grass and weed and wildflower. One day (it was a Tuesday) al

Then the moon cried real white tears.

When my husband died, I was in bed with his brother. Ricky and I had been married six years, three months and two days when his little brother, Ben, and I gave in to the lust that just would not go away in spite of our prayers and tears.

Alone he waited in dimness, studied smooth wooden walls and traced their polished patterns.

and there is no climbing up/ to any height, and the sun/ is cloaked by cloud,

Hers is the kind of crazy that can't be masked. She's worn it on her sleeves since tenth grade.

Should I have shooed the cats from my bed? Shaken awake the silky tangle of feline true love curled at my feet? Shut their bedroom door against them? Perhaps, maybe, I don’t know.

“Your sister is a slut,” said Ma to me over supper.

I hit the pole near Whited Avenue a year to the day.

I told mamma I was leavin’ you –/ you and your hard drinkin’, devil/ writin’ ways,

"You are not a vintage radio. Not even close."

They lie down in the prairie grass and clutch each other, imagine dying under fat clouds.