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(This is an excerpt—click on the title to view the full piece)

On Alicia Ostriker’s Theory of the Nature of Intimacy
 
My shoulders tighten
like a loaded crossbow
while I consider the consequences
of slapping the pear from your hand

 

White Noise
 
I often wonder
if he recognizes faces
or coats.

 

Amateur Astronomy
 
My father drives off at ungodly hours
in search of dark, open fields

 

Collection in a Studio Apartment
 
So many things can fill
a box