The Best American Poetry 2015
“I dream I cough up a songbird I release to the sky, you board a plane to take you across the desert.
I will tie messages to the feet of doves, set them to sail at dusk with a map to your country.
Dizzy with thirst they fall, raining, from the sky, their dried meat hardening in tawny feathers.
I throw stones at planes’ shadows, cursing iron to crash, to burn in serrated-leafed cane fields.
So my skin never blisters with your desire, in birdbaths I empty vials of avicide.
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