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Here I am thinking, You were nicer to me When you were pregnant Now all you do is Give me a frown, An abrupt look away So I urge you, Become pregnant again, And walk in through the hallway On a bright sunny morning So...

“Show me your house,” said she As soon as we opened the door Now, on the eighth day The house is empty Mute, quiet, refusing to Wave goodbye It was my house She arrived at But in her departure, She left our...

Early morning, rain lashing at the window. A body sleeping on the bed. A dream entered that body. An old woman in the dream.

(On stage, she is sitting crouched, lamenting, wailing and cursing Death who is standing quietly, about five feet in front of her, with its back to her.) If you are so focused on not seeing me What is this urge in me...

He said he pinched himself
Still in disbelief
That he is my husband
"Really, REALLY...!" he said.