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“Mercurochrome” was a finalist for the 2001 National Book Award in poetry, and it’s a vivid representation of her sensibility.

In my memory, it’s the smell of warm coconut oil and dust mites and puddling Mercurochrome.

There was a recurring palette of pale red and sickly, Mercurochrome yellow.

On the inside, sharp smells—vinegar, alcohol, purple liquid iodine, red Mercurochrome solution, and soap—filled the air.

Then, feeling her answer was too civil under the circumstances, she added, “Mercurochrome’s no good at all for that.”