Amy’s finally cleared up whatever’s been stuck in her throat.

maryland turns into my mother’s favorite place.

It’s Monday morning, April 2020, and I am trying to see if my dad has had a stroke from 800 miles away.

I tore through the Target, Hurricane Hooper hellbent / on proving that his skin was / crisp enough

At the beginning of my future is me. At the end of my past, also me.

We’ve come to Des Moines for the funeral. Fitting / place: I’ve driven through every time I was leaving home to live / somewhere new.

The finest strand of dark green yarn / masquerades itself an accessory / wispy and frayed

This is how you keep your head down; this is how you thank God for this country: loudly so they hear / you;

in people. That whatever gods / I choose, I choose to love

I buy an old city bus, which will / whisk me away from this sinkhole I'm circling.