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

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

Winter sat like a wolf
on the horizon.

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

love is a soggy tea stain on a grocery receipt

Listen to me: I know
the winter gloom in
mid-summer…

I suffer visions and many indignities
while looking for the Lobster

Gravel-scatted hell &
we were blessed to be able
to hold on for even a heartbeat

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

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

The sin is existing.

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

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

Ghosts for hire, whispers in her mouth,
cysts to feel, the symmetry of a gift.

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

My grandmother asked, “Does it feel like being widowed?”

and then her eyes fully opened — blazed through with strands of mud

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