I never had a toothache, but the desire to have one crossed my mind constantly. Once I went to a doctor, hoping for a positive diagnosis, but he attributed the pain to a small insect bite on the left tonsil. From that day I resolved to abandon the hope of ever feeling the longed for, quick stab of pain or a steady musical throbbing.

Don’t take me home, at least not yet;
Let’s have another drink, and sit
and talk—I want to be your woman,

It’s not
because I am a land
lover

When I wake, the sheep are eating apple peels just outside the screen, the trees are heavy, soaked, and hushed, the sun just rising. All seems calm, and yet somewhere inside I am not calm. We live in wooden buildings made of two by fours, making the landscape nervous for a hundred miles. 

I'm not sure what to say when the man comes to my door and says he's my brother. It is true that I do have a brother, but this man does not resemble him. The man is battered, blood not quite dry speckling his face. 

Before, it was the wind
and the idea of disorder.
And now it is the sea in the kitchen;

At the first sign of
weariness, there will be
a 15 minute rest stop.

Taking myself in my teeth
I begin to rip away the bandage of my skin
unrolling it first from my arms

There are hundreds of secret things
You should reveal; because when you
Repress one thing, it sets off

For the sin of pride the authorities made me wear this little hat. It fits me no better than a baby turtle, this blue plastic derby secured by a rubberband round the chin. Though I was allowed to stay on in my high position, my authority was subverted like a poster scrawled over with mustaches and black teeth.