Caroline Beasley-Baker dementia is a ruthless god. my mother says — i wuv you — but can she mean it? i’m uncertain the sentiment is meant for me. the infantilism of the ‘wuv’ a clue — a mis- direction…
Browsing: Poetry
E.J. Antonio Geography of the changing body: File cabinets & mirrors 2016 1/ I’ve stopped looking for myself in the mirror. The face of the parent I’ve become to the parents I have startles. The child I was pushes…
Ellen Devlin The Slowdown They watch my slow tucking of napkins under the left sides of plates. They reach around me to get the coffee canister, yank open and slam-close drawers looking for teaspoons, Splenda, the goddamn coffee filters.…
Sharon Dolin I Am Losing My Mirrors I am losing my mirrors, I thought, as one more silver spangle, size of my pinky tip, drops from the gauzy blouse’s hem. I am losing my mirrors, those who loved…
Laura Rock Gaughan Murmurations for a Grown Daughter Driving my daughter to the airport, in the sacred space of our car, we’re flying past multi-lane threats— all the normal hazards—when the birds swoop down shadowing our way. Black…
Terrie Joplin Last Wishes 1. I know when my mom said, It’s time, my dad and sister drove her to the hospital to die that night— returning home, drinking coffee, waiting for the doctor’s call—just as she wanted,…
Eve Packer phases/stages: Cycles of the Moon phase 1: new overheard: she’s sweet too bad she isn’t prettier phase 2: waxing crescent: the weapons h.s. sophomore: i remember thinking as i look in the orchard street store mirror…
Puma Perl Too Old to Live Pulling into the 11th Street Garage, Annie’s 1999 Honda SUV suddenly rolled back She pulled the emergency brake, nobody hurt Girls in street turned around and glared at her You’re too old…
Cammy Thomas The Little X I have to work so hard to click the little x that gets me out of there. It’s 1 a.m. and I could do, couldn’t I, just one more episode, only the one?…
Elizabeth Burk How I Mourn the limber body, smooth flesh +++strong bones, resilient spine, the moxie and verve of my younger self. The wish to haul that body from the graveyard +++of buried hope haunts me, stirs images…