Abdications
My heart sogged through the days in a Stygian fog. I drove around at night naked full of agonized silences and dwindling abdications until there was not much left to give up but my camouflaged wrath which I had vowed to maintain to the end so bitter was the taste of my early grief, so naïve was I in the early pain, so little did I know that I would in time come to own all of it. This poem appeared in the March 1, 2012 issue of the magazine. READ MORE >>
After the Rape
The stream made a merry little sound as it washed her brain and her britches. She dug deep into her sack of surplus fears. It was the last day. She died by inches. A doctor in that time was never thought of--he was next to the under- taker--and besides, who had the money? She was young. She had not been interested in dying. But no one she knew ever went anywhere except to die. Nothing was supposed to turn out right. READ MORE >>
