Look, there's Death in Sister's face, in her eyes - that's the poison.
Everyday she eats more poison. For a moment she is alive again,
...
A crow screams at me from the eave of the garage roof.
I wonder, does he carry the soul of the man that I slew?
...
The city is shivering, empty,
and looks like a model
...
It is an old man, ancient, with stiff, white hair
and yellow fingernails, sitting on a sagging bed
...
The man was dying, thrown from his truck like a projectile, an accident
in the driving spring rain, a dark country highway. My father,48, lifted
...
Six days till Solstice, and in the news there is nothing about kindness;
The war machinery grinds away, lives in the balance teeter and shake,
...
The singing leaves and punted footballs drop, and the valley
...
Dad pulled his hand away from me as he turned to leave.
I can still feel his hand leaving mine, his skin leaving my skin.
...