A few months ago, near the end of the summer, we stood chatting over the fence, far in the back by the old shed with the paint peeling from the door, a hoe in your…
Browsing Category Poetry
from Dear Anna by Jon-Michael Frank
Anna, I like that picture you sent me of a wooden chair spotted with pink petals in a misty and abandoned parking lot. I wonder if this is how the healing begins. Sitting in a…
Blasphemy is Easy in Love
Her brothers passed me at the dinner table like salt. Her sisters took me out of each other’s arms with fingers spread to protect my neck. Aunt Margie and Grammie Lorraine prayed three rosaries for…
Blackberries
We could not have been much, two junkyard kids picking blackberries down by the log pond until our thumbs and tongues stung black with love and the footfalls of hunters down by the water made…
Take up Your Quarrel with the Idea
I dreamt there was a fire in the study and I tried to put it out and she called me a fool saying save the fire and save the books; the child. We take up…