If my life was the size of my arm, I would stretch it out for you.

I am not a guide
for every traveler
of loss.

Do not say anything anybody else has said ever. Things are not “bleached by sun.”

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

I imagined a cascade of slow death for all / that mattered…

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

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

Even from this distance I could go out
the door it would bang shut and crumble

In my universe, my arm carries a heart and flowers,
my back a misguided quote

you quit wearing pants
loaf around your yard
in hole-nipped panties

Any still figure at mid-late evening, when the long shadows make even crumbs appear arranged like furniture.

Lights on the dashboard spell out
“You still can’t kiss me”

I would always rather be happy than
dignified. Rather held than held
in awe.

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

The sin is existing.

we drove on through
the blue seal of morning as the turbines
turned and winked out their hearts