Like afternoon shadows on October adobes, she will fall ( Read more... )

At night he is returned to me ( Read more... )

Now that my sister is dead I could say ( Read more... )

From a distant room ( Read more... )

Morning Poem

Listen. It's morning. Soon I'll see your hand reach
for my watch, the water will agitate in the kettle,
but listen. Traffic. I want your dreams first. And
to slide my leg beneath yours before the day opens.
Wait. We slept late. You'll be moody, the phone
will ring, someone wanting something. Let me put
my hands in your hair. Who I was last ( Read more... )