Okay Donkey

I’ll commission a dollhouse door just below my collarbone, with a toothpick for a handle. Inside, there’s a brand-new laundry line, where I pin their worn clothes: the mother’s denim, the daughter’s opal shirt with mustard stains and daisies, the father’s ratty briefs. I set the dinner table in my palm. It only takes a moment. I could close my fingers to protect them from blue...

Bird cam: a pair of hatchlings squat inside the twiggy nest while the mother hawk perches on top of a metal rail, fanning her tail feathers beside the spring green
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Somebody’s trip to Bali
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A turtle begins to cross the road with intention then somebody picks the turtle up and carries the turtle across the road then t...

Janet’s husband stands bowlegged, thin
grave-digger and former smoker, his hands
shake when he holds her

purse. He and I prowl
along the edges of the graveyard
while Janet goes on and listens.
At home in Toronto

he cremates bodies,
tells families that they can’t watch
him work, even when curiosity begs,
because only he, only Kevin,...

I closed my eyes and held my fingers to my temples. Nothing. Just the quiet field. The two of us sitting in the truck cab, the summer sun still hot in the evening. She said anyone could do it but no one was like her. I’d known that right away.

I’d lost the keys somewhere in the field. I searched all over, running my hands through the tall grass. It’s not that import...