James Crews: Finding my Mother
The day you passed away, I stumbled
along icy sidewalks, searching for any
sign of you
Naomi Shihab Nye: Bees Were Better
I studied bees, who were able
to convey messages through dancing
and could find their ways
home to their hives
Claudia Boyd-Barrett, Hannah Hough: A Day in the Life of Parents Caring for a Child With Complex Medical Needs
As her parents see it, caring for Claire is part of the job of being parents and something they do gladly…
Joshua Michael Stewart: The Book of Love
The love my partner and I share is a book we’ve read many times.
Tony Gloeggler: Knowledge
He’s unaware he’s built
like a bowling pin,
that his shaved head shines
like Mr. Clean and everybody
stares when he waddles
James Crews: At the Monastery
I want to ask: Would you bow
to the blown-open peony, its petals
strewn like slips of silk in the grass
after last night’s storm?
Tony Gloeggler: Goodbye
no one seemed to accept
or understand I love Jesse,
that the way he will never fit
in the world reminds me of me
Laure-Anne Bosselaar: When the Bed is Made
How mothers, lovers, nurses & hotel maids,
backs aching, have bent over beds for that last
swift tidying.
Michael Simms: Sun Star
After churning all night
I wake to see the sun star
In the window, its perfect
Blossoms full of light
Richard Feynman: Letter to Arline
I find it hard to understand in my mind what it means to love you after you are dead — but I still want to comfort and take care of you — and I want you to love me and care for me. I want to have problems to discuss with you — I want to do little projects with you.
Emmelie Prophète: Pipo
Pipo often talked about fallen friends, their final, frozen, empty vision, almost as if he were feeling his own demise. He was close to and a cousin of Fanfan the Savage, but he was not an active gang member, and should never have died.
Sandy Solomon: My Friend Seems Near Tears
Look at her, so tall and beautiful
when she forgets herself, her whole body
lit with a sloppy, ungovernable brightness
Song of Songs, Canticles 1-8
I am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valleys[….]
As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, and his fruit was sweet to my taste.
Dawn Potter: Arcadia, 1939
warmth of bread baking, a cardinal alight in a branching
oak, white bed, linens floating in air, a table
laid in an arbor’s shade—
Vox Populi 