This poem is taken from PN Review 148, Volume 29 Number 2, November - December 2002.
Two Poems
The Bugs and Everything
The window is always open, but the screen is down
to keep the bugs out. Even naked it's too
hot and the mattress pokes us. We wake throughout
the night and utter oddities forgotten by morning.
Even in such a tangle as this I dream
of something so lost in childhood I'd let it go:
A man comes to the door. My mother answers.
...
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