We communicated by cheeses, …
D. Nurkse
We undid a button, …
Sadness of just-painted rooms. …
I asked my father, …
They pay us time and a half …
The child’s assignment: …
We brought that newborn home from Maimonides …
After death, my father …
I cradled my newborn daughter …
Ignorance will carry me through the last days, …
I was not beaten …
We gave our dogs a button to sniff, …
When death stands in your doorway, you must show no weakness. If he points at his watch, answer “in five minutes.” If he insists, murmur “just a minute.” When he bridles, whisper “half a minute,” …
It is the great arguments …
What, I asked my father, is behind a wall? …
We want to give ourselves away utterly …
It ends badly, this glass of wine, …
They were driving into the mountains, suddenly married, …
So I entered suffering. A room with dazzling walls, starched drapes, a bed with the coverlet turned down just so. Shirred bed skirts. The pillowcase crisp, bearing the marks of the iron. A low wrought iron table with a pitcher and its glass of water. Curtain half cinched. …
Death is coming …