Translated by Marilyn McCabe I will lean so hard into life, grab so rough and tight that before the soft day ravishes me I’ll
Last night, last night I, too, felt fat with promise, wreathed in pearls, crowned in something celestial, fanciful, and drunk on light. It hung,
I was unfolding. I needed nothing. I left you there on the roadside with nothing. I was expansive, no longer drowning. I left you
Eight, not more than ten, head haloed in dark curls, she slept swaddled in a coat in a dented duct-taped Ford. And he sat,