Only the moon came over the hills—a good nurse in sensible shoes. My breath caught in the branches of my ribs. The only house
A room lined with books and old theater seats, a velvet curtain, the red cabaret with the candles and kitsch. Of leaving that city.
Today, looking down, I watch the area around my shoes while I walk. I see an interesting leaf, a label from a bright energy
I have come away from your pile of poems with my fingers burning small hearts along my wrist. My mouth has turned them over