Now that the Israeli has left, it falls on me to make the salad.
Gravel-scatted hell & we were blessed to be able to hold on for even a heartbeat
Just starlight and some small scribbling across vinyl.
anger, like you can sink teeth into, candy apple
It recommended soft porn, as gentle prodding and petting parent to parent might calm and soothe the kid.
We stop doing dishes while a mile unwinds from the tree outside.
I like to think I’m also sprung, released from the furnace knocks, done with the heavy meat stews and salty soups.
it’s touch-and-go with me and weddings
My grandmother asked, “Does it feel like being widowed?”
I would always rather be happy than dignified. Rather held than held in awe.
Part of being a good sad person is always painting the shadows in the right direction and knowing what sorrow to art with.
my father holds his favorite drink
We found in his suitcase T-shirts, his siddur, gifts he bought for his grandchildren…
my friends’ fathers are dropping I mean dying like flies
I tap at the alphabet while a single deer taps at the dirt beyond the brush on the far side of the tree line.
The collective failure of ethical standards
The two of us toast to a man we both love, to whatever degree, clink our glasses and laugh…
I myself should never have been born
You let the yellow glow from eye sockets. The building up the street is burning faster and faster.
Even from this distance I could go out the door it would bang shut and crumble