I’m the one to hollow the pumpkin and carve a face. The doorbell rings again. You adore the children tonight in their costumes. A
I pearl a leaf’s bottom, a marble drinking light, hatch out minute, green as the leaf I rest on, devour, mixing its yellows with
That night going the long way, round the back-roads with the real gardens and the old people’s home and the footpaths twisted like broken
The first year I lived in Florida, a woman told me, nothing dies here but the people. The first night of the hurricane, my