You had to look a second or third
time to find the beauty in his face,
but it lay there etched into the lines
like crumpled paper, priceless parchment.
...
Still warm on the scarlet chaise: a silver pistol,
small enough to fit into a purse;
lethal enough to send a man to his reward.
...
Every wrinkle,
marking her skin, burnt parchment,
every ache in her body,
every Great Depresssion,
...
You protest
that love has passed you by,
that life has passed you by,
but was it you
...
You’re a phoney,
she said.
You are a blood-sucking
vampiress, he said.
...
Goldfinches congregate
in the mimosa trees.
The sun is rising,
...
Last year’s growth,
and remnants of the year’s before,
has scattered a plush rug
underneath the budding maples,
...
It...
(an unfathomable wrong,
an unforgettable song,
a friend’s betrayal,
...
He was not born with ophiciophobia,
the fear of snakes, but
the swamps of Louisiana
hiss in the sun with crawly things.
...