First, you discovered nothing / and wanted to show it off / to your friends. // Pointing at nothing / proved problematic, though, / so you circled it.

Such a beautiful orange trumpet! / Sometimes a keyhole is shaped like a cloud. // Those same words escaped me three times / because I wanted their sincerity // to sway people to have faith in me.

At the top of the hill in the forest at night we are standing face to face as the moon wavers behind a small cloud and when I say no to the baby he pulls a gun and shoots me in the stomach.

Brake light out; kid turned on by a doll. / Serpentine belt blew, melted the motor. / The speed limit is not the speed limit. /

I can imagine the baby pooling away from me / like smoke, imagine the doctors soft as birds / beating their wings, murmuring, guiding the dark plume / / into a bucket. Into a bag. Then afterwards, smoothing / a sheet over me.

Such a beautiful orange trumpet! / Sometimes a keyhole is shaped like a cloud. // Those same words escaped me three times / because I wanted their sincerity // to sway people to have faith in me...

Thankfully, you don’t have to think about / putting on pants to go to the grocery store, though / sometimes you wish you knew a foreign language / so no one could understand.

An unsmashed window. It arrived / cumbersome and clear. My father stumbling under its weight: / the veins of his forehead like lightning as the house shook / from its last silence.

I crisscross the stacks / searching for my mother / and father. The librarian / tells me they boarded / the other plane / that already took off. / This library is an airplane / I do not want to be on / but the doors are locked / and in fact / the librarian states, / we too have taken off. /