Pascale Petit: A Mother Sings
I will rebirth her on banks of the river of life.
Only I have to wade through the river of thorns
while she sleeps.
I am her country and her lagoon.
Michael Simms: Against Prayer
Okay,
God of crib death
and dirty needles,
of heroin and fentanyl,
God of twisted steel
burning beside the road
Judith R. Robinson: Black Scar
oh Danny boy
who is no more
he whom I loved
Judith R. Robinson: I Apologize
My own people, once stalwart as the stars,
must now weep as we, their stunning progeny,
disappear like shadows
into the cracked cement of sweet America
Michael Simms: Zed
rock the baby in our arms
so mom can sleep in the next room,
hours sliding by like gentle ghosts
Amy Small-McKinney: Neighborhood
What do I know?
Anna with red wings that opened for me and hovered over the houses of bullies.
She is dead now too.
Tony Gloeggler: Hardly Talking
I’ll give up and lie,
promise, that yes, his friend
will be back tomorrow.
Connie Post: Estrangement
you watch a burning city
from far away
and notice a pigeon flying towards you
gaining speed
pulling the sky’s edges with it
Laure-Anne Bosselaar: At the end of the Breakwater
Let the day open so wholly
to light.
James Crews: I Keep the Window Open
Life’s too fragile
to waste on money or importance,
handing over the hours that will never
be returned to us.
Laure-Anne Bosselaar: Tonight’s Dinner Companions
you, old poet, gone, whose lines I often
say aloud against the ocean’s constant shush
Barbara Edelman: White-Throated Sparrow
Though she is dead
she is buying me a car
and this buying makes her happy
Liza Katz Duncan: Bayshore Elegy
You’d have to be crazy to call home
a strip of sand that will be underwater
in fifty years and oh,
my God, what does that make me?
David Hassler: Intensive Care
Children under the age of fourteen weren’t allowed in the ICU. I was eleven, and my brother was thirteen, but no nurse or doctor was going to stop us from seeing our mother.
