At Dee’s funeral there would be wailing and crying and music and words, all of it insufficient, impotent, too late. Too many families, too many mothers I never met until that moment, and how do you introduce yourself, then? “I’m Mr. Orie; I taught Dee twice a week for his woodshop elective.”

“We always foreground poetry in everything we do.”

‘‘He’s jumping bail,’ Julia said. ‘It’s illegal. Doesn’t anyone care?’”

“they thought a ballistic missile / would drop. First, the realization: / no shelter, no basements

“Not everyone can tolerate at the speed of light”

“the straight shot / the long shot / the parting shot / indiscriminate in the dark…”