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A family altar stuffed with dead family hanging now above the TV.

The voyage of the best ship is a zigzag line of a hundred tacks.

It’s silly, I know, half-expecting to see Apollo playing lyre to a muse.

It seemed that someone had died, but really it was part of us.

Of the sixteen elephants, one—a lady—completely took my heart.

Never takes much, a fingertip’s touch, or beak-brush of prey-probing bird.

Beggars know to emerge when you’ve more than enough to give.

Expulsion. He was out, his course set. One word can turn the key.

I try to get her to drink again. We were okay drunks, before Jesus.

It is this—what you hear when you stop listening—that counts.

Grandma was forced to break her vow of silence only three times.

What did St. Teresa have in mind when she prayed to be released?

Perhaps he was not almost sixteen years old, but thirty-five and sick.

Howie and Nadine were confident they’d be among the survivors.

Her will is resolute, and he knows enough not to challenge it.

A Midwestern man is never without his knife. Half of us carry guns.

Each drifting snowflake falls nowhere but here and now

I was nineteen and mentally infirm when I saw the prophet Isaiah.

In the reign of the cold, in the name of the sorrow, in the flame of the hark.

Through all this the sands kept vigil, harboring blood and bones.

His thoughts swirl around him. Maybe women aren’t women anymore.

I was created in His image I had dominion over every thing

Beached on the kingdom I learned to swim with my eyes closed.

When I cast my vote, I become just that tiny, abstract, lost, and essential.

Rumi advised me to keep my spirit up in the branches of a tree.

As a girl I was raised to sing along with the rest. To praise. Especially men.

Years after the Sisters of the Holy Names left you unlock the door.

sunrise reminds the shama to emerge from her perch in the pandanus tree

Cassandra blared Puccini and Eminem so she would not pray.

There was a fish. And then there was the consciousness of robots.