Rain My son tastes rain with his fingers, lets drops ride into his palm down his wrist. He never…
Vanishing Act Who’d have thought she’d lay plastered on an asphalt death bed next to downtown high rises & the…
Poem In Which I am Late for School My seventy-one-year-old granddaddy and I hop and skip all the way to…
Wanting I’ve made a study of The smokers at the bus stop near the hospital, Visitors, uneasy in street clothes,…
Buzzed The buzzard doesn't hit the windshield so much as swim across, talons skittering, tail feathers fanned, a swooping rush…
We Return to the Forest Plagues of minivans descend like locusts upon the blighted forests. Barefoot folk, wearing thistles in…
The Dog Takes it All in Stride, but the Cat’s Gone into Hiding My husband unleashes beasts at our house,…
Love Poem to the Number Seven It's always been lucky for me: seventh heaven, seven on the die, seven seas,…