Renee Carlino

fell asleep to the sound of her practicing late into the night

Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash.’ ”

The love of my life was gone

He unfolded the paper and handed it to me.

To the Green-Eyed Lovebird:

Grace . . .”

“What the fuck happened, Matt?”

Grace . . .”

“What the fuck happened, Matt?”

remember looking out onto the canals and thinking about you, hoping you were safe.

Once there was a you and me

We were lovers

We were friends

Before life changed

Before we were strangers

Do you still think of me?

—Joe

There were two long, narrow windows that bathed the room in sunlight, illuminating Grace’s face perfectly. It was as if the light were coming from her.

I popped the CD into the stereo, reached for my camera, and began snapping away. She moved around the room to the music, twirling and singing.