After Covid
By Poetry Issue 125
I stand beside my mother & her tree, picker in hand, ——–—extending the rod, aiming for an apple in apparent ecstasy, fullness aflame, ——–—aquiver in the favonian breeze, brilliant as the seed that gave it birth ——–—when its need in the soil first cast a vision for this grandeur: autumn day brandishing ——–—sapphire sky, air…
Read MoreThe National Memorial for Peace and Justice
By Poetry Issue 104
She reads their names aloud,
men, beloved to some,
lynched in Little River County,
Arkansas, each appellation
engraved on a six-foot
steel slab
Full Thunder Moon
By Poetry Issue 88
Be merciful to me, O God, be merciful, for I have taken refuge in you; in the shadow of your wings will I take refuge until this time of trouble has gone by. _______________Psalm 57:1 Sitting in the gazebo at Saint Meinrad Archabbey, ___she hears the sky grumbling as one cloud swells, ______its lining stretched…
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