Last night, last night I, too, felt fat with promise, wreathed in pearls, crowned in something celestial, fanciful, and drunk on light. It hung,
I was unfolding. I needed nothing. I left you there on the roadside with nothing. I was expansive, no longer drowning. I left you
Eight, not more than ten, head haloed in dark curls, she slept swaddled in a coat in a dented duct-taped Ford. And he sat,