We each of us carry the murder / back with us into our houses apartments or townhomes // There to unwrap it and inspect it / To shake it gently, it makes no / sound // It is our murder now and we / have it in our kitchens...

My pregnancy / was a long and happy nightmare // During which I ate / pint-sized tubs of ice cream and walked around the block // Becoming more tubby and unwieldy...

When one / feels low or envious there is the sound of the number zero.

As if you were a famous and celebrated painting. // Just hanging about / receiving praise. // It is an adolescent wish, / wanting to be praised for having done no thing.