Absence Archive
All I Can Tell You
Darkness Thrown Down Like a Blanket
Forced Impossibly
Fossils of Fathers
Ghazal after the Electrocardiogram
In the Moments Before the M Train Arrives
Kept Miniature in Size
Kool-Aid Days
On the Maternity Ward
Parentheses
Pomegranates
Popcorn
Seeks Its Own Level
Telephone
Ten Days in August
The Window Before Which We Last Kissed Is on the Market
Darkness Thrown Down Like a Blanket
Kate Gale
The cat found us in our sleeping bags.
Little girl beside me sucking her thumb.
I hummed to the cat and the girl.
Stars disappearing. Us on the porch corner.
We’d been sent out.
Where the wind was.
She for laughing.
Me for making her laugh.
Then the wind.
Plunk of rain.
Always raining in New England.
Unbearable rain and green.
She said, we’ll get wet.
We move back to the wall. She said,
We’ll have to sleep all night
with our backs against the wall.
I said, We live our whole lives with our backs
against the wall.
She said, What if the stars come out?
I said, Even then.