Mulatto Sermon
There’s a window from which my ruination looks out—myself thin as a bird’s tongue. Trash can, I am the one being thrown out day after day. Bed, I blame you for many mysteries. In dreams, mother spins herself black in a closet. Great carpenter, I cannot live like this. I want to move, but first tell me where the basement is so that I can get my wedding dress. I want to stop my husband fading in, fading out. That reminds me of my skin. Skin covering my house like oil covers the ruined bird. 
Mulatto Sermon
Patient Sermon
Sermon on Form
Solo on Nudity