"When they first met, he shook her hands boldly and directly, as if it were a normal thing to do and not a violation of the law in the Islamic Republic of Iran..."
"Sister / to a knife, but the moon cuts / water and ships and when she feels like it, / the sky. The knife cuts the red / from apples and unrunning lambs and once, / my father’s thumb..."
"Up in the air anything could go wrong. Someday the engine could cut—maybe fuel had been leaking, spraying the fields like pesticide rain. The propeller would grind to a stop but the plane would push forward awhile, gliding, silent..."
"We went to church and when we met and sat together for the first time, it felt like always. B was always with R, which was more like usually, since nothing was quite like our always..."
Casey Golomski lives and works as an anthropologist in New England and Southern Africa. He is the author of Funeral Culture (Indiana University Press).