Poetry
Winter 2002
Town Limits
1. How shy she became when she saw them outside her kitchen window—her young, married sister leading the minister's wife straight up the front walk. How the two of them, […]
Poetry
Summer 1988
Ghosts
When we went there the TV with the ghosts would be on, and the father talked and called out every now and then to him, sitting in that space we […]
Poetry
Summer 1988
The Hand
Her small life as a daughter and sister and aunt was a story of hands, the one which they knew her by, high up at her side like a fin, […]
Poetry
Summer 1987
Seeing Cooch
Most winter days,passing thatwreck of a houseall wrappedin plastic,you do notfind him. It justsits by the rampto 89 likea great loafof bread. Yetthere are timesjust beforeyour mind closeson the traffictoward […]
Poetry
Summer 1987
What It Is
It is not what,carrying thatafterthought of legs,he runs to, and notwhat his interrogative, foldyface detectson the floor, becauseit is always changing, alwaysturning out to besome other bugor bush his nose […]
Poetry
Summer 1987
The Name
At the end of her life,when the firelifted her house away,and her left sidevanished in a stroke,and she wokein that white roomwithout apron or shoes,she searched each face,including his,until she […]
Poetry
Summer 2000
Driving North in Winter
All the way to Mercer these rooms left out in the dark— lamplight and two chairs the old couple sit reading in, a table where a family comes together for […]