1. Bond’s in the lake with a henchman, and I’m a child again in that crowded pool in the grip of a drowning girl.
Eyes closed, I inhale, I imagine:
a fine needle in the arm opens your chest,
raises you to a high pitch,
sets you humming all night.
Saved from
I am writing this card, as I feel I must, to tell you how sorry I am that your mother has died.