To be the other womanis to be a seasonthat is always about to end,when the air is floweredwith jasmine and peach,and the weather day after dayis flawless,and the forecastis hurricane.

I have dreamed of our bed as if it were a shore where we would be washed up, not this striped mattress we must cover with sheets. [from “After an Absence”]

What We WantWhat we wantis never simple.We move among the thingswe thought we wanted:a face, a room, an open bookand these things bear our names –now they want us.But what we want appearsin dreams, wearing...

Because the night you asked me,the small scar of the quarter moonhad healed – the moon was whole again;because life seemed so short;because life stretched out before melike the halls of a nightmare;because I knew...

Just looking at themI grow greedy, as if they werefreshly baked loaveswaiting on their shelvesto be broken open–that oneand that–and I make my choicein a mood of exalted luck,browsing among themlike a cow in sweetest...

I’m only leaving you for a handful of days, but it feels as though I’ll be gone forever—- the way the door closes behind me with such solidity, the way my suitcase carries everything I’d...