I am always the beautiful one. When I was seventeen, I learned how to walk, fix my face, and wear my hair the ways
All the tin roofs red, redder still in colorless January, pitiless and hard-edged. A mocking pass of clouds hoards the light. A sparrow
In first grade we learned about Halley’s Comet When it comes back I will be eighty-three I don’t know why this feels significant The