Calle Florista

This World and That One Sometimes you defy it, I am not that , watching a stranger cry like a dog when she thinks she’s alone at the kitchen window, hands forgotten under the running tap. The curtains blow out, flap the other side of the sill. In you one hole fills another, stacked like cups. You remember your hands. Connie Voisine’s third book of poems centers on the border between the United States and Mexico, celebrating the stunning, severe desert landscape found there. This setting marks th