Browsing Category Poetry

Ghazal for My Mother

She’d listen closely, then gently remind Such is life!Her mantra: don’t live a coulda shoulda woulda life. Tucked me to bed with when the blaze is blue, and the lamp-wick sputters, and the wind goes…

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Half-Life of a Wooden Pipe

While my mother was getting her stomach pried open to remove a child formedwrong side up, my father sat in the hospital lobby balancing yellow notebookpaper and pen on legs half-feeling and unsteady as he…

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The Wasted Pupil

after A Field in England I’ve been here before. A walking ghost before purposeappeared. Eyes rolling, billowing black sleeves, a manleads a group through a field. His smile shrieks.The others hold the corded rope tied…

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