Browsing Tag


  • Going Home

    July 30, 2014

    My husband and I sat on our back patio rocking in two white wooden chairs, bought solely on a whim. That whim has led…

  • Sister

    February 2, 2014

    You swallow sorrow
    like knives slicing
    down to your heart.

    I want to gather you,
    press the pieces together,
    slow the bleeding—

    but I fear you like
    a wounded animal.
    Will you…

  • Lacuna

    February 2, 2014

    By Katherine Parker Richmond
    Here is a hole
    a small space
    as though I dropped a stitch
    or two
    in my neat row
    of knit, purl, knit, purl
    no one would…

  • An Echo Canyon Adoption

    February 2, 2014

    My breasts hang heavy, ache
    to weep sweet milk tears
    to mourn your mother, my friend
    whose still form slipped shallow
    into Echo Canyon soil this morning.

    You’ve stopped…