“I might turn into that pregnant summer stereotype “crabby, huge, and miserable” and don’t dare question me in this heat: “How are you pregnant during summer?” I’d punch someone today…”

“Up to this point, I didn’t think I liked him. I’ve never really had any sort of healthy male relationships, so obviously once I got one, I was determined to keep it forever…”

“I used to look them up in the obituaries to see if I could find them there. That’s not closure. I mean, hell, you kneel over someone, feel their final warmth through your gloves, stare at their eyes…”

“I will stop at nothing to be in the company of my demons. The rez dogs are still barking. The cars keep flowing. The coffee is still terrible and I am cold…”

“It seemed the longer I sat in her room and looked at her deconstructed loom leaned against her empty bed, the more my vision blurred with an unbearable longing for her…”

“Maybe the first prayers were just stories, talking out loud, speaking internally with closed eyes, or to our cousins around a fire. We had to share. Our voices were power…”

“Roll out and flatten it quite well! And throw it to the frying death. Self-maintaining Manifest Destiny. Lip-smacking Indian delight. Suffocate us with your trauma. Give us our daily simple carbs…”

“we dizzy on flesh all summer. dance at it. spin around…”

“Have you ever noticed the way your fingers fidget between lined journal paper, and do you know about the glow you radiate, before you perform a piece?”