In the morning chill

I breathe moths in my cupped hands.

- Arthur Sze

Sinkholes
Joyce Carol Oates

take you where
you don’t want to go.

Where you’d been
and had passed smilingly through,
and were alive. Then.

The first room
Joyce Carol Oates

In every dream of a room
the first room intrudes.
No matter the years, the tears dried
and forgotten, it is the skeleton
of the first that protrudes.