Poetry
Winter 2010
Gethsemane
In the still depths of my mother’s bedroom I sit on a low wooden stool before her feet, nose slightly stung with a faint scent of urine. At ninety-one, nearly […]
Poetry
Winter 2010
A Blur of Echoes
Let’s forget everything we know to be true about you and me. Let’s just say you were born that day. We’ll say you splashed into my hands on a salty […]