“Is there anything sweeter than the juice / trickling down my fingers, dripping into the sink / as I savour this stolen moment of calm?”

“This is my sorry, I mean story. / This is my blanket of fog and clocks.”

“They are people, strung up / Like medieval torture”

“someone else has trouble / with a line break, but then there goes / the syllable count”

“You can say this / is about beauty / but it’s about spit”

“If I was waiting in line behind Sue Bird at the post office, I would tell her she is the exception.”

“your love will pour you whiskey and deliver it // with a whispered, I don’t understand you. It will be the most tender thing / you’ve ever heard”

"I’m a little more aware of dying now,"