All In All, I'd Say, The World

I Think Of Myself As Writing For One Person, That One Perfect Reader Who Understands And Loves.

Thumbs Grow Into My Throat. I Wear Slaps Like A Spot Of Rouge.

I Did Not Know The Woman I Would Be Nor That Blood Would Bloom In Me Each Month Like An Exotic Flower, Nor That Children, Two Monuments, Would Break From Between My Legs.

Frog Has No Nerves. Frog Is As Old As A Cockroach. Frog Is My Father's Genitals. Frog Is A Malformed Doorknob. Frog Is A Soft Bag Of Green.

My Husband Sings Baa Baa Black Sheep And We Pretend That All's Certain And Good, That The Marriage Won't End.