The Idea of the Bowl

The Idea of the Bowl

A blue bowl will hold open for steaming soups, or the brush of tiniest ribs of a feather. Before evening, it reaches its surrounding lip of the horizon around emptiness. Without transference, without moving, it opens, is open, as shades of blue wash over it. But its...
Bazaar

Bazaar

            Another photo of a twisted, flaming car where minutes before shoppers heard a muezzin call. Off to the side, a little girl, alone, half-hidden by smoke, holding up her shredded hand like a dead animal she doesn’t know where to put. It’s not the smeared...
Walk Through

Walk Through

I walk through our home in mind to make a cup of coffee. Greeting leaves in the picture window, I seem slow to grind the beans. A crystal dish—the things I love— the rooms gleam white and clean. Our desk is neat between your bills, my calendar and pen, the floor plan...
Two Poems

Two Poems

  The House of Illusion She’d say, Someday you’ll go on without me. She worked the back of the box. From underneath. Where the saw couldn’t reach. Her name was Ruby. We had nothing in common but our long skinny feet. She was down there in the dark like Nijinsky’s...
Unspoken

Unspoken

It was a pale imitation of justice, but all in all we agreed the testimony rang true. Outside, the shadows of the houses swallowed the shadows of the pigeons without flinching. Some things are easier to absorb than others, said the judge, using white gloves and what...
Mystery

Mystery

Mink stoles and sparkling eyes—sparkling, really—and hair curled to nearly edible precision, and the pale satin taut across the bust and the compact waist, from which flared a modest skirt, with a brooch somewhere, and a flower, and the dapper companion in natty suit...