Makeup
We were afraid to jinx it, so when my daughter emerged
from her dark bedroom for the first time in what felt like months
and came to the table with her soft face caked in cosmetics,
we all stilled our gazes, made certain not to react
Poetry Prize
A Lesson in Metaphor
Another name for a penis is a microphone.
No one told me this. The radio had to pull me aside.
It’s a metaphor, of course.
Old Blue
A thing that’s named “Old Blue” should be a dog,
some flop-eared, lazy hound. Your Blue was
just a car. Okay, not just a car—an Oldsmobile
Awards, Poems, Poetry Prize
Living the Chemical Life
I have to admit that I don’t care about the historical Jesus. One way or the other. I’ve always thought
Of You
You’ve been the wolf, you’ve been the bear, / you were the grass when I was air
Spin
I don’t remember if the bottle was a Coke or a Fresca,
just that the glass was cool against our hands
in the warm, empty tool shed.