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“When I was young, I hid under the porch with a star in my throat.
When I got a little older, my mother opened the cupboard to let the fire out.

...

I believe the stories got wet and began to bleed together.
I believe we built the sides of the town too high and the events kept rolling back.
I didn’t know that the water was going to keep rising as well,
but if you have any say in the matter, while the boats go down,
I’d like to be on a ladder,
peeking into a loft made narcotic with children,
a dead pool with rolling, living waves. If possible,
I’d like the water to douse the match that’s growing out of the bones of my hand.”
― Catie Rosemurgy

“Concerning Some Recent Criticism of His Work

—Glaze and shimmer,
luster and gleam;

can’t he think of anything
but all that sheen?

—No such thing,
the queen said,
as too many sequins.”
― Mark Doty, Sweet Machine

“But I know we need to keep warm here on earth
And when your shawl is as thin as mine is, you tell stories.”
― Naomi Shihab Nye, Red Suitcase

“(I know, lacquer
and tumble and glow,

burnished and fired

and hazed) it’s because
what else Lord

to wear? Every sequin’s
an act of praise.”
― Mark Doty, Sweet Machine