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
it’s touch-and-go with me and weddings
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.