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Yes, Eylon thought, he lied to Cath. Lied about his day, about the risks.

He has his hands on Nii’s throat, and this time I do not stop them.

“I don’t care how tired we are. I’m not not having sex on my wedding night.”

“The kiels take extra time, but then you know your meats. Questions?”

The first murder had been a half dozen years ago in a warmer city.

A dead body leaned sideways against a wall. Its eyes were open.

One of us broke away, cooled, and died, having never fully lived.

Ajax can answer all this killing only with the killing of himself.

Slice a finger while opening a beer can, fizz the gin high in tumblers.

We press closer to look at a picture: a handcuffed boy leaning toward us.

Let him search, Tricia thought, who knew what he might discover.

He was alongside without preamble. Elephants are not stealthy by nature.

Histories we spin from lust, our tongues heavy and soaked.

My love swims you, your shoulders like hard sails under the green curls.

Professor Flacks could tell you everything about James Joyce.

One day, we will all turn into choir girls—all soft and hollow inside.

Our brains interpolate from surrounding images, fooling us.

God was surrounding the chair, leaves flourishing from a sickly tree.

The coverage of the state funeral, black horse bearing an empty saddle.

In the many pages of the book of love this is only one story.

If life is an open vein, what’s brave about a sleeve-heart, sweetheart?

Corn repeats itself into a haze of tassels and sheaving leaves.

My “lonelymaking.” Also known as my horrible secret, continent-wide.

A simple line of raging wet nearby, how as a kid I pictured the Nile.

We did not know at the moment of parting that it was a parting.

She only eats condiments, pickles, slices of sharp cheddar.

You were drowning in the bathtub. Mother was in her room.

In that world I was a fish too eager to enter the nets; here, I’m a river.

Not all his children love themselves. Look at little Adrienne.

insomniacs gesturing in a cave of neon light the narrative of their lives