Q₁₀ueenly, she half-smiles. I pose her

U₁nder the patio umbrella, sweltering August.

I₁mperious, she gestures toward the rubied letters,

X₈’s & O's aimed at her son—air kisses to embarrass

O₁r needle me. She pushes my buttons,

T₁ipsy with her third gin & tonic.

I₁n the photo, her hair could be her own.

C₂hemo, though, has shaved her eyebrows clean. |Q|U|I|X|O|T|I|C|—

A₁ windmill before her, armed with L&Ms & Beefeater,

B₃ravely she charges. Two   Hundred   Forty-Eight!!

I₁n a reverie now,she’s thoroughly snockered:

N₁ow try to top this, college brat!

G₃arrulous, voice still hoarse from the radiation,

O₁ut of the bag she draws her new letters. A hiss & a grin.

   Contributor’s notes

   Introduction
   Something of Us to Prove Our Afterlife: Notes on “Ochre”
   Table of Contents
   Acknowledgements

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