Miriam Levine is a fan of buses and trains; she loves to gaze at passing scenes and watch fellow passengers, especially on the subway. At night, she travels in her dreams. Her most recent book,The Dark Opens, won The Autumn House Poetry Prize. Read her other books of poetry and fiction.
I’d been thinking about leaving. I’d been thinking how there’s something about out here. Before long it’s a new January and you’re hungover with a heartache for a man you won’t see for several years until he pops up on that very popular, critically-acclaimed sitcom with that actress you learned to like, then hate, then feign indifference abou
The leak in your breathing/ tube makes a cartoon squeak./ It takes two nurses, silent/ as nuns, to place you/ in my arms...
If I have already/ gone insane/ but I want to get/ crazier yet,/ what’s my move?/ Go outsane?
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