Poetry
Winter 2001
Mothers
Lucy, my African mother poked dirt for grubs, sat on her haunches in the Olduvai Gorge. And who was her mother? A one-celled plant floating in water? One in a […]
Poetry
Spring 1998
Digging in Winter
White branches bend toward me, winter, they sing, don’t they? Death comes even after soft weather,hides its nest of knives and cords. Isn’t that so? my dream-child asks. She doesn’t […]
Poetry
Spring 1998
Polonaise
Our tenant, Marek, dreams of Landowska playing Scriabin, of strawberry flowers starring a meadow. Handsome Marek, pouring honey into bowls of Rice Krispies. Sunday. Monday. Does he hear me worrying? […]