It Is June. I Am

I Hoard Books. They Are People Who Do Not Leave.

Women Are Born Twice.

I Remember The Stink Of The Liverwurst. How I Was Put On A Platter And Laid Between The Mayonnaise And The Bacon. The Rhythm Of The Refrigerator Had Been Disturbed.

The Man Inside Of Woman Ties A Knot So That They Will Never Again Be Separate.

Poems Aren't Postcards To Send Home.