Mark Scroggins spin cycle a child beaten to death again compromising our fiduciary responsibilities like brushed steel or painted porcelain of sinks shower curtain of the handicapped stalls and her voice diminishes into gray acoustic tiles time kept over my shoulder its lockjaw stride out of step with my wristwatch blowing bison or carrier pigeon into historical frames fixing minutely painted glass eyes into taxidermist's packing il malcontento just about sums it up morose rather he spoke through an interpreter so his brothers never recognized the kohl-lined eyes as his what mitigation an intelligence quotient of fifty-six a measure of fifty daylight suffuses my rooms but not yours my money but not the sort of thing astonishment refreshes betoken exculpatory gestures eventually rinse us all white in the same wash