Pebbles Everything, everywhere, a memorial seen from the corner of my eye; a puzzle piece, a part of a reconstruction, a memory. A message – I am still here with you, for you. Like a spy, I read code left in a newspaper or flashing past on a computer monitor, recognizable only to me. I carry a pebble in […]
The first time I held you We were in the hospital room before your mother Came out of recovery. I was ragged From the chaotic night, the fast change Into operating scrubs, the paced urgency Of the nursing staff as they rolled the gurney Through the double doors, two lives Hanging in the balance. You were […]
The importance of things my father said I might be asked To speak at his funeral. I’ll structure the sentences to soften The brutal impact remembered From a question he asked once About my grandfather that screamed “Why is he so stupid?“ Grandpa liked fishing Out by the bridge pylons. My father ran out things […]