slipping it off,
this silken garment I thought
was my skin
*
this, too, an act
of violence, opening
my hand
*
after the flood
not stopping to pick through
the debris
*
inside
this conversation
new moon
*
so giddy to lose
this negligee of shoulds I forget
to blush
First and last are my favorites, and they hang together very well. Or maybe I should say, they fall together very well.