After You Have Vanished -by Kevin Prufer

The little red jewel in the bottom of your wineglass
is so lovely I cannot rinse it out…

Looking at My Father -by Wendy Xu

It’s the inside which comes out, as I contemplate
him there half in sunlight, weeding diligently…

The Dream -by John Donne

Dear love for nothing less than thee
Would I have broke this happy dream…

Touched by An Angel -by Maya Angelou

We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight…

The Kiss -by Stephen Dunn

She pressed her lips to mind.
—a typo …

The Ecstasy -by Phillip Lopate

You are not me, and I am never you
except for thirty seconds in a year…

We have no choice in the bodies that hold us -by Holly Amos

Thing of dirt and water and oxygen marked by thinking
and reacting and a couch…

We Manage Most When We Manage Small -by Linda Gregg

What things are steadfast? Not the birds.
Not the bride and groom who hurry…

The Touch -by Anne Sexton

For months my hand was sealed off in a tin box.
Nothing was there but the subway railings…