Tossed up like a handful of confetti, she, red tail, is elbowed off like a bride to the wild, but she reels and staggers,
Two cars, parked side by side, tick as they cool: the easy, summer banter of metals. Woods consider creaking and splintering wrenching—even devastating—soul-talk. While
Little brown toad, little knotted fist in the shade of the bean row, forgive me for disrupting whatever toads do on hot August afternoons
Reviewed by Susana H. Case The tyrant in Amirthanayagam’s book is Donald Trump, a break from his writing about Sri Lankan dictators, and the