BETSEY’S BACK ARCHES as the chemotherapy drips into her blood. Transferred to Oncology from ICU, we start this medication the same day as a last…
I dreamed of Oxford . . .
(spires, a thousand spires, endless lectures, musty halls
a solitary self in a Bodleian expanse
A good life, my dear Wormwood. An…
I’VE ALWAYS THOUGHT OF MYSELF as strong, self–sufficient and steadfast. Yet the challenges and changes of life, at times, mock my rock of Gibraltar self–assessment….
OH, I CAN HARDLY SAY IT. I can hardly type it. I can hardly think it. Well, all right, here goes—empty nest. Now, that’s taken…
And proud, she
Takes all the
Clothes off the shelf,
The books too,
And cleans the drawer.