She has received an Individual Artist Fellowship from the New Jersey State Council on the Arts and completed an MFA in poetry at Vermont College. She reads at night, wakes when the neighbors pitch themselves into the apartment pool, thin dolls in tiny suits. From her balcony she sees the tops of cars fade and peel and wishes a scarf of rain would drop through the roaring light. Brandishing scissors, snapping their blades, she's proved there is no God, every newspaper vivid with evidence. Clocks whir in their tiny voices.
Heat burns the grass to nothing.
She rubs a square of silk across her lips. In the north, snouts of glaciers burst with dirty water. Tongues of ice survive the summer's melting. Once from a parked car she watched the building night man dance with a woman in an empty storage room. Arcing their bodies, one led, then the other, both of them awkward, unbeautiful.