"I wonder about the monarch kissing the
    bee’s stiff leg, if she’ll take its
         baton, if she’ll keep it moving toward  
              blossom, toward yellow and red  
                    blossom."  

His Daily Walk
Priscilla Long

"I make my way—then stop. 
A pile of feathers, black,  
a chick, the gape a hungry pink.  
Above, in hemlock branches
two crows flap and yell, fly up and down, 
distressed, their nestling nestless."

"The stories themselves are profound, hilarious, and frightening—attempting as they do to peel back the hypocrisy of the culture in which they occur, even as the narratives feel tempted by the power of that culture, and the charisma of those who would wield it."