Category: Memory
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Unborn child
My first lie was before you were conceived and I prayed that if you were a girl, you must have Jeff’s hair, because all my years as a little girl I had dreamt of having just that hair, waving soft back and forth, all the time knowing God does not take a grocery list he…
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If this were my only way to you
I turn, seeking the hawk to bring my message to you, to receive yours to me, and wonder if he shall bend his wings toward me, ever or now, to dip into my heart and take from it that note, most unmixed, to swirl its eternal wings to the expanding night, to all of the…
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Winter in Frenchtown
If you have visited only in the summer, the weight of snowfall on this strip between the big and little lakes must surprise you. Winter here makes summer seem impossible — children running down dunes with nothing but swimsuits, beach towels tied like a capes, tiny sails on the horizon, or closer, Sunfishes capsizing into…
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I 57
What is it about rows of corn stubs flipping past, electrical wires sagging in sync with the tracks, whistle beaming out to snow-flat fields, clumps of houses, trees so far away you think of desert, that pulls me back to dream-like chatter, long nights on empty roads? We meet again in this rhythmic void, away…
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Day 21
rain baptizes the yard, field, streets, river from winter’s hold opening the frightened ground flowing through it and forward
Poems from in between 