There is so little left of the tomato plants.

You said it was okay to blame
what goes wrong on the planet

You are strange, my mother said, dwelling on the past.

love is a soggy tea stain on a grocery receipt

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

you know that
baby swallows make silver ripples
in wild rivers to court reeds?

You let the yellow glow
from eye sockets. The building up the street
is burning faster and faster.

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

We found in his suitcase T-shirts, his siddur, gifts he bought for his grandchildren…

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

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

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

Just starlight and some small scribbling across vinyl.

Ma wrings
a wet world
of colors

I am still waiting for the lion

this is what I want you to to see:
leaves falling because it is too late for them not to

Okay, picture this: We’re in an elevator. The elevator shuts down. It doesn’t matter where we’re going, only that we’re alone.

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

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