Christine Rhein: Sunflowers
The whole world
has pictures, explosions
we hold in our palms
June 6, 2022 · 4 Comments
Christine Rhein: Our Corner Acre, April Afternoon￼￼
Side by side, we dig in the withered flowerbed,
the sudden warmth, and once again you say, See
how much the light has shifted. I nod my head
at another changing season, our aching knees.
April 17, 2022 · 2 Comments
Christine Rhein: Panic
Because it’s too late now
to sound the alarm
over the lack of alarm,
over the sudden
wealth of it.
March 23, 2020 · 4 Comments
Christine Rhein: A Surgeon Writes from Aleppo
We are running out of coffins.
The city burns, street by street—
even the stones are catching fire.
Our last pediatrician has been killed.
October 10, 2019 · Leave a comment