All mouth, she stole infants and cattle, wanting pulled thigh, the fat that grills up yellow, marrow, the lungs—pale yellow of a strawflower. All
Angel above the closet door, prone in flight among stars, trumpet to lip, long white gown and chestnut hair flowing, ribbon of old rose
Before the signal hits midnight clouds, Batman’s on the bridge putting his arms around the frenzied father, guiding madness into two silver rings. An