Poetry
Winter 1994
Confession
“He never really hit me, and anyway it was so long ago. Yes, there were some other things, but never was there hitting. Sometimes he’d twist my arm hard behind […]
Poetry
Winter 1994
The Visit
i. Today in my garden I find you certain flowers: a one-day orchid, an unbloomed rose, waterlily and a spiny weed bloomed blue, mock orange–tantalizing stillbirth–then the stir of red […]