Sometimes I Fly Like An

Our Children Tremble In Their Teen-age Cribs, Whirling Off On A Thumb Or A Motorcycle.

Today Life Opened Inside Me Like An Egg.

Rats Live On No Evil Star

I Am Tearing The Feathers Out Of The Pillows, Waiting, Waiting For Daddy To Come Home And Stuff Me So Full Of Our Infected Child That I Turn Invisible, But Married, At Last.

Being Kissed On The Back Of The Knee Is A Moth At The Windowscreen.