I myself should never have been born

The sin is existing.

Empty vessels
make the most sound, I think,
as you rip the fairy lights off the handrail.

There is so little left of the tomato plants.

Every so often, they add a tattoo
in honor of some long-forgotten love.

Should have found a job by now; should have slept in the night;
should have boiled old coffee before noon.

Now that the Israeli has left, it falls
on me to make the salad.

The storm passes without snow.
The car waits loyally in the back lot.

It recommended
soft porn, as gentle prodding and petting parent
to parent might calm and soothe the kid.

Try not to see your own predicament in every fucking thing.

how does an afternoon turn
on its axis?

Long after midnight, we’re talking about our first time

He has stories that I am not in
anymore. It’s healed this way.

We stop doing dishes while
a mile unwinds
from the tree outside.

I count my homes—
those of my scattered youth
the sanctuary of our young family
the intermittent rest stops
of apartments and vacations.