A unicorn comes trotting up the lane. The woman keeps whistling. Her husband comes trotting up the lane. Her ex-husband comes trotting up the lane. Her two dead husbands come trotting up the lane. She whistles. A sycamore tree, its bark mottled and smeared and beautiful, comes trotting up the lane.
I can’t shake the feeling / there’s something I’m supposed / to forget or else have forgotten / to recall, and I recall / the cool sun sliding into / my mouth and little else.
Because of me, Marina Petrovna turned completely bald – bald like a baby’s bottom. It happened like this: I went over to visit Marina Petrovna, and bang! she lost all her hair. And that was that.
When you go, I will wash / your body, take your arms / each in mine and know, / now, their weight. Pull / the cool sponge along / your side, lift your feet / in turn.