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Up Country

Tanya jokes that she comes to the East Coast now only for funerals.

Vera

Morie Johnson was successful. I am not a hooker. I am only a thief.

Victoria’s Secret

He’d always wanted to kiss her thigh dimples but never dared.

Visitation

Here is where you touch the world and here are the words to feel its heat.

Vivaldi in the Park

Enough with the stranger, their transcendent experience of art.

Vivid Scenes and Good Prose

Wait

What I really meant to say is that I am tired. Beauty can demand so much.

Waiting

People believe; The whole world is part of something.

Wanting

If Vann kisses her, a mist will rise in her brain. A promise of oblivion.

Waxer

I once watched a man wax a hallway with an overweight rotary brush.

We Are What We Have Lost

Ella knew she hadn’t hurt Sebastian, but she knew she’d betrayed him.

We Named Our Dogs After Liquor

You live in this country, you put up bars, you train your dogs to snarl.

Webcam the World

Get all of it. Set up the shots. Get beautiful stuff and get the ugliness.

Weegee Stories

Mama would say beware of the little flaws that make one homely.

Wellfleet

This morning drifts of sand hissed along the shore like mist.

Werewolves and Other Intangible Things

She always came back with her lipstick smeared all over her mouth.

Whale Shark

We pull up alongside the great body. The fin marks the spot.

Wham Bam

We’re fat! So what? They hadn’t yet tired of this chant, the play’s refrain.

What We Have

It was spring: the field, a botanist’s mirage of wild flowers.

Whatever Is the Matter

There is something on my mind rushing up as river in a locked car.

When I Think of Early Romance I Think of Fishing

I wouldn’t know what to do with the body, gills pumping like an accordion.

When You Can No Longer Talk about It, You Have to Sing

I had forgotten how to breathe, and then I learned again, all at once.

Where’s the Beauty, Jimmy?

It’s like his bottom half is not man but a strong horse.

White Butterfly

Across sage flats, tundra, and bleeding hearts, she escapes.

White Nights

Can there have been something in my letter, that unlucky letter?

Winter 1940

You have your apron on under your coat. We’ve got each other.

Winter: Tonight: Sunset

I stop and look at the sky. Suddenly: orange, red, pink, blue, green, purple.

Women from Mars

He never stopped reminding me that I was born in Harmony, Georgia.

Yard Mercies

A bunny the size of a teacup feasts in the clover, ears lit up in salt-pink light.

Yard Sale and Other Poems