I couldn't have waited. By the time you return
it would have rotted on the vine.
So I cut the first tomato into eighths,
...
Her daughter wrote back to say my friend had died
(my friend to whom I wrote a letter maybe twice a year).
From time to time I'd pictured her amid strange foliage
...
Achilles slays the man who slayed his friend, pierces the corpse
behind the heels and drags it
behind his chariot like the cans that trail
...
The professor stabbed his chest with his hands curled like forks
before coughing up the question
that had dogged him since he first read Emerson:
...
The old woman in the parking lot
wields her walker not unspryly. Gray hair
lank and without style, hanging
...