Come April

If not for the haircaught in the cornerwhere the broomcannot reach,I would never knowthat you were here. And if not for the cornerwhere the broomcannot reach –if not for the mouldingthat pinned it –if not for the walland the ceiling’s crease –if not for the raftersand shingles,there we would be no hair. And if not […]

I Will Not End My Grief

Could there be a requisite span of mourning – some sentence meted out by the dead to be thrown black out into a day without – wistfully walking away? I picked a stone on a path as I thought of you. I picked a stone for my pocket, and there, in my pocket is my […]