Our eyes are full of terrible confessions.

The joy that isn't shared dies young.

Suicide is, after all, the opposite of the poem.

One of my secret instructions to myself as a poet is "Whatever you do, don't be boring."

A woman / who loves a woman / is forever young.

Yesterday I did not want to be borrowed but this is the typewriter that sits before me and love is where yesterday is at.

I lay there silently, hoarding my small dignity. I did not ask about the gate or the closet. I did not question the bedtime ritual where, on the cold bathroom tiles, I was spread out daily and examined for flaws. I did not know that my bones, those solids, those pieces of sculpture would not splinter.