Summers ago we skirted the low roads in West Virginia where the wear of tires became a human scream as a train whistle caught
The irises aren’t eyed, but tongued: the three bearded sepals droop, pant, loll among the splayed jade-green blades, while behind the jumble of tilted
The light inside the office feels trapped. Above us, plastic panels clutching fluorescent tubes pulse. The office never changes: a large print with a
In the electric air, perched on the hard ledge
of the bathtub, I smelled pine needles, burning dust.
Inscrutable as a Sybil, submerged in still water,
your