Here I have practiced a poetry of silence that writes, not against, but alongside a text I have loved my whole life.

I have no memory of the crash itself. At some point during the impact between the side of the bus and the road, the large windows shattered.

It’s a feeling, above all, of being woken up. But from what? From the dream of feeling awake.

I always wondered if she knew how that summer, when I sat with my silent father having sandwiches and tea, I secretly longed to be beside her, listening to her voice on the phone to my aunt.

After spending enough time with Adler, it becomes almost impossible to read normally. You begin checking each line for logic and style. The world of letters takes on a fresh aspect of amusement and scandal.

That’s all I want you, who live elsewhere, to imagine: the real, regular, frightened, loyal communities of D.C. attempting to celebrate each other while we wait to see if the foundations of our existence will hold.

These rooms, familiar
but uncertain

as a marriage

She wanted to hurt her dad, and she wanted to protect him. She knew that he was trying. She wished his trying amounted to more.

Home, believing that everyone keeps leaving because of her, haunts herself.