We're on an ice floe. I'm in a big hat.
He's swept away.

In an old Vienna tintype, my father wears a dress,
Like Irish boys, to fool the gods.

I kerosened my marriage wig, dropped a match on it
To stop our war.

“Take your toothbrush,” Aunt told Uncle,
When the SS came for him.

There is always someone I'm in love with.
Who wrote this down.