Mud Season A winter of withholding over. Your love sings “Águas de Março” in the other room, and even though he sings
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They lived close enough to school to walk home, usually, but Marshall’s mom drove straight from skills lab to make the spelling
She presses into his crest, iliac crest, then goes four fingers higher. He’s ticklish and jerks. She doesn’t smile—she’s been trained to
YOU WERE TELLING ME ABOUT VAMPIRE BATS in the black light of our bedroom—the true communists who gift gullets of blood to
Identify door, window locations. Place a desk below a window if your room is at ground level, in case you need to
The Incalculable Loss of a Small Thing The ring left on the edge of a motel sink, a dress gone from its
Captain emaciated dumb thirst orphan human father passed you like a plush toy among his children (and the family dog) because:
At minus five, it’s hard for laundry to dry. Outside, unsurprisingly, clothes seize up like casualties—whether hypothermic or pyroclastic—either way frozen, and
Iceland We barely slept. Outside, diesel engines cranked patiently at nearby campsites, and an avalanche of fog descended from the mountains every
Where We Wanted When we lived in a country we dreamt a home, a snake flickered across our kitchen floor. We knelt,