I’ve never seen anyone take to a cat
the way you have. Six stillborn litters
she’s had, yet you keep hoping she’ll give over
one fuzzy live one, one mewing paddypaw.
For such a growler, you are easy to this
fragile cat, who sits in the street,
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Aubade
By Paul Smyth
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The Passing Fancy Man
Impressive is the word for him, smarter than a husband, a visiting professor of life, urbane, conjectured to be good in bed. Younger than many, he is ruefully experienced; on […]
Not Saying Much
By Linda Gregg
My father is dead and there is nothing left now except ashes and a few photographs. The men are together in the old pictures. Two generations of them working and […]
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