This poem is for the epidemic dead and the living. Remember them?
Your neighbors, your siblings, your daughters and your sons.
This poem is for Robert, remember Bob? He told me my lover’s name
Before we had even met. Then he went dancing alone until daybreak.
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House Wrens
By James McKean
Troglodytes aedon The day the wrens moved inI found myself master of nothing. All the plansI’d laid—mitered corners, pitched roof, the door hole small enough to keep out rotund sparrows—why, […]
Letter on June 15
I didn’t want a crowd. I didn’t want writers’ backbiting in a restaurant. Last night’s leftover duck, some chilled Sancerre (you’ve called fresh-tasting) beckoned to me more. I crossed the […]
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