Gary Hawkins

In the bed she assigned to me, too narrow for tonight, taking for her own the couch on which I could just as easily stretch with a three-inch shortening of my straight and narrowed spine; the heat blowing its desert over us all night, competing all night for what little air, I turn as she […]

We had completed all the usual deportment Conducted breakfast over silence and glances Shared our bed and kissed with out-turned faces Packed your clothes in the trunk without argument Now the wind picks up chasing birds across the lake We hurry the last boxes inside your new place We wait on a small porch as […]