shaking cottonwoods, this whisper and shimmer of leaves? Is it tonight’s full moon, the quicksilver of clouds, the sky’s star-thick seas? By day, I
My sister empties drawers, boxes, plastic containers, jewelry cases, a backpack, a purse. With each emptying she calls out instructions for the things inside:
My first wedding dress—not white, not wedding. A frock bought off the rack for more than I had ever spent. Light gray with