Your First Kiss Is Destiny Knocking.

You Could Not Be Filled With Hate And Be Beautiful. Like Any Other Girl, I Wanted To Be Beautiful. But I Was Filled With Hate.

Now I Am In The Place I Call This Wide Wide Heaven Because It Includes All My Simplest Desires But Also The Most Humble And Grand. The Word My Grandfather Uses Is Comfort. So There Are Cakes And Pillows And Colors Galore, But Underneath This More Obvious Patchwork Quilt Are Places Like A Quiet Room Where You Can Go And Hold Someone's Hand And Not Have To Say Anything. Give No Story. Make No Claim. Where You Can Live At The Edge Of Your Skin For As Long As You Wish.

She Didn't Even Have To Smile, And She Rarely Did Outside Her House--it Was The Eyes, Her Dancer's Carriage, The Way She Seemed To Deliberate Over The Smallest Movement Of Her Body.

At The Tips Of The Feathers There Is Air And At Their Base: Blood. I Hold Up Bones; I Wish Like Broken Glass They Could Court Light....still I Try To Place These Pieces Back Together, To Set Them Firm, To Make Murdered Girls Live Again.

Last Night It Had Been My Father Who Had Finally Said It: "she’s Never Coming Home." A Clear And Easy Piece Of Truth That Everyone Who Had Ever Known Me Had Accepted. But He Needed To Say It, And She Needed To Hear Him Say It.