On the wax museum tour of their marriage, every room sports its bullet hole or fist-sized gouge, while they, veterans of each other, arms
On the wax museum tour of their marriage, every room sports its bullet hole or fist-sized gouge, while they, veterans of each other, arms
A windshielded fist of inertia, the treacherous arc of nowdead bird, all are omens: light goes where flesh can’t follow. Glass, a border like
On the underside of a water sprinkler’s aluminum throat, four drops of light condense, chandeliers in perfect measure. Wearing her gown of cold mist,