The Nature of Things
I knew your mother, she says and your ancestors all the way back, and she shudders remembering what came before.
O'Reilly: The Patron Saint of Happiness
There are no picket fences high enough, no hill too steep for your fresh heart.
last summer when you called ...
I’m from a place where tree roots are shallow ...
Snow Girl Found
Years ago, I met my true love here. I was six, he was six. Now I’m fifteen, and so is he. He waits for me on these chilly winter mornings. His lips are cold, they melt when they touch mine.
... leaving the little tracks in the dirt where you can see behind you for miles what you left but not why.