While Taking a Nap, the Invisible Stenographer Dreams She Can Play the Violin
Cithern, lyre, lute, viola d’amore—
all her life she’s dreamt of playing
something she can stroke
and pluck, pass her hand over like a god.
Against the Solar Eclipse
It’s a black swath that cuts across
A part of the country that’s a myth.
Does Ohio even exist? Not here,
Where the post office blends
Considering the Trebonites
When we interviewed them, we found they had no insurance / and believed in great acts of page turning.
Courage
When I wrote a check for fifty dollars,
that’s all I have I said to the taxi driver
who locked the doors of his black Mercedes.
He drove like a maniac down a dirt road.
The Wedding Doll
She boxed me—saving me, she said, for the wedding.
She shall be my centerpiece, stand next to the cake.
That was when she was twelve.