Crossing the Bourne Bridge
in the dark of the moon,
the sun setting fire . . .

He was really her favorite
student, dark and just
back from the army with
hot olive eyes . . .

Considering as they pass if they should introduce themselves with a fake smile over
latte’s.
For a man of that age, in this neighborhood, looking so crumpled
Means, he must be a creative. . . .

I speak with all the accents
of the people I have loved-
the warriors . . .

There aren’t many hunting accidents around here anymore but my brother Dave was a hunter and death seems like it should be an accident, not anybody’s intention, so that’s the story we’re going with, that it was an accident.

with my eyes of single-edged eyelid
i measure every pain i experienced
as to measure a saint's smile
how much it weighs . . .

Small hands rip glass from panes
invisible and shattered on the splintered
floor  . . .

This night, gods meditate
along the socket’s lips, assuming  . . .

There’s a scene in the AMC miniseries Mad Men which is simultaneously metaphoric and analogous to Cecilia Urbina’s novel A Tuesday Like Today. One of the main characters, Betty Draper, a well-bred, well-educated and well-kept wife of the enigmatic Donald Draper, walks in on her house keeper, a black woman.