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A knife left by an untraced foot marks where to lay the body—fácil.

Under pillows of snow, the creek shushes the sharp architecture of ice.

I roam the dirt with the law in my teeth, a widower in search of a widow.

I realized you were my fourth love, and the system was always doomed.

This box is full of wires, energy that moves in ways I can hardly fathom.

He thought about kissing her. Then he decided that she was just lonely.

I wondered if the coyotes and deer were mourning the loss of Steve.

My mother used to cry in church seeing a child walk down the aisle.

May your wife remove her shirt and have an affair with a tornado.

Her body is no longer the source of pleasure but constant pain.

My wife fell in love with a dancer. A woman. I came here to get away.

She sips the coffee and thinks about throwing herself off the balcony.

she was right—hurricane being the name of the feeling, the twist of it.

The raven cocked its black eye, dipped its beak in the red pool.

They wrapped him in bandages from all three kits. The old man watched them.

Who cared about a whiff of male exertion and motor oil? Not Lana.

There’s something about traveling by plane. People tell their secrets.

I put my hand on my stomach and had an image of the melting snowman.

Takis brought down the demons that would pursue him the rest of his life.

This comb smells like tea gone cold, weighs less than a vein pumped full.

The irreversible ink stain breaking the face of whatever we skate on.

When you break them they barely change, except, at last, they stop.

Virginia surprises herself: she wants this warmth, wants skin and breath.

Instead of attunement, I was given a pair of size 6 Toughskins.

My sister says, vicious as possible, “Don’t you dare try to protect me.”

He was afraid he would be sucked into the world like this cousin had.

The city is lit with all its lights. I’m up in the air. It is yes until I die.

poor Larry. you never asked to be raised from your tomb.

In the republic of pain, we bloom ice bags and crutches on limbs.

First a mother puts her child to sleep, then the other way around.