Looking back and clinging to life. “But I just don’t feel old! I’m not ready to die.” I was going to die. I had a brain tumor; it had grown back, I could feel it boring down into the roof of my mouth, and now I was going to die. I couldn’t accept it, couldn’t...
“It didn’t flare like tissue or burn to ash but hovered many minutes …” To enjoy this feature as a broadside, drag the image to your desktop … or scroll down to read the poem in plain text. After the Wake, Gramma Ruth Communes with Her Beloved 1. “There in a jar, emptied of buttons — mama put a...
“… girls in their angel boxes, she and she and she …” To enjoy this feature as a broadside, drag the image to your desktop … or scroll down to read it in plain text. Losing Babies for Laura and Adam – Soft as buttermilk, smooth butterball, bright as lemon yellow button, angel cake,...
All we can say at the end. “She rubs my knuckles and down each finger with even sweeps of her thumb, her other hand bent clawlike beside her face.” Orange Memorial Hospital. Photograph by Chad Hunt. The old woman lies in the fetal position in her hospital bed, breathing the slow, rhythmic sighs of death. She moans,...
“The world is not ending! The world is not ending!” To enjoy these features as broadsides, drag the images to your desktop. Or simply scroll down to read in plain text. These poems are also available, in slightly different format, on Medium. Prologue after Robert Burns I awake one night in April to the sounds and...
