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I don’t know you, I only think of you to ignore how unhappy I am.

Let me lie down with you and listen, let me tell you what I know.

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

I tried to cheer my brother up by reminding him all clowns die too.

The kissed fingerpad touched wet with wine orbiting.

Even our tenderest buds and shoots endure the late snow.

No one plans a trip to the emergency room. No one succeeds.

Chase Twichell

I’m covetous of my worldly neighbor. And he’s not accommodating.

Today the game was to try to catch one of the cats in a pillowcase.

“You mean to fall in love with your wife while I’m gone,” she said.

At the copier, her back to him, running off copies, was Penny Ayler.

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

The door opened, and Dan stormed in, shouting, “Motherfuckers!”

The man lifted his shirt just enough to show the handle of a pistol.

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

You smile into the phone static, the breath of your beloved.

Her mother is a locked door with another door behind it.

Rain falls steadily, rattling down drainpipes and gurgling into gutters.

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

“Wanna give it a go?” my brother asks, nudging me with his 12-gauge.

We fed our dreams inevitable sins, the kind you lie about till you grow mean.

How do we get there, to where we can answer what the jingle is asking.

I have been enshrouded for months by the weak winter sun.

People write vows for their weddings of one.

His eyes always astonish her. Iridescent blue, flecked with black. Her husband was gone, two years later than she should’ve thrown him out.

The guy from the funeral home can’t get the gurney into the house.

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

As I lit the samovar, she stepped through the door with that reserved gaze and whispering voice of hers. The Kabul of my childhood. The Kabul of affectionate gestures, of wise, soft-spoken street vendors. She ended the conversation in her usual discerning way, smoothing the blanket across my chest.

I am part dumb, and blind, and deaf, and untasting and unfeeling.