i sometimes think that everything that has ever happened to me / is raining somewhere else. i sometimes think that the water has found / a path through high trees, worked its way inside another room, so the damp / next door is spreading, curving an unknown ceiling into a misshapen moon.

-Savage! / You read my poems and tore the pages. / -… / Mute / Ir-rational / a Chinese poem played on the speakers. / Black dirty pots on the hob.

did you hear about the time mom danced all night in prague? / she was in love with a saxophone player and, by proxy, / all saxophone players. jazz made her feel alive and warm even as / the snow fell on cobbled roads and she and paulina left faint trails

Going in with her, she made sure / there was a notebook and pen / in her bag, so she could write / down stuff they might forget.

I thought you were something / But you are nothing. / Not nothing, but not the thing / I want you to be.