All my nights are like papyrus, drenched in tears, a wash of disobedience staining my blank ease.

A poem by Jessica Powers from The Second “America” Book of Verse, a collection of the best of America poetry, 1930 to 1955.

I request a touch of the oils from a stand-in

It wanted to turn, the stern rocking around to the front, taking the place of the bow, the bow to the stern, port to starboard

The orchid book says to stop watering right before you think it’s enough, which doesn’t help much

I see them lining up for slaughter,/ Judas at the head of the pack/ grunting his way to survival, while my/ pigs do not stand a chance, doomed creatures/ that they are, and it’s a good thing.