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Poems
To My Son, Stillborn, January 16
Your death seared my cells,
fired them with you;
in one way, you left
me as your body slipped
from mine, 41 years ago,
but in another way, you
entered me;
Catching Cold
It’s sleeting outside but
I slant through the slashing
Slivers of ice unscathed
An old woman is waiting inside
Saying you’ll catch the death of you
As she hands me a heavy blanket
Another Husband in the Waiting Room
From the sixth floor of the surgery tower
two blocks from a frozen Lake Michigan,
I can see a small lighthouse but no boats.
The overcast lake is speckled blue and white
near shore, but far out on the horizon, it’s dark
like a new bruise before the healing begins.
Common Cause
Sitting before me
I measure his scars and record the beatings
He is broken
Not just his teeth and back, his will is shattered
I ask his plans should he be granted asylum
He has none
Time & Again
COVID wards 2020-2021
For the sake of the present / let’s just admit that thigh-deep mud & poison gas & running into machine gun fire / still belong to us all the glass-eyed / survivors who said sundown was almost worse than morning slaughters / night when stretcher-bearers could finally reach the duckboards / run toward the day’s groans caught / on barbed
Lessons From the Night Sky
It has recently come to your attention that asteroid 2022 AP7 is headed towards the earth. ◙ Despite your attempts at distraction, your mind repeatedly imagines the collision. ◙ Experts call 2022 AP7 a planet killer–then say not to worry as it could be many generations before this is a true concern.
Infinite Excuses
A long day makes me want to get home, and I’ll have
to explain, again, why I’m late to pick up the kids. The merge
onto the Expressway slows. At least the drivers stay patient,
taking turns. We keep stuttering forward until I see the cause
of our delay–two cars against the median, front and sides
crumpled metal. Next to them sits a white, windowless van.
Three Needles
First the catheter, slimmest filament,
slid in by expert hands
The next needle delivers
a pillowy somnolence
your russet-furred rabbit face falling
gently into my cradling palm
Then the final dose,
doctor calculated for your now boney, bunny frame
The Healer
Just beyond the parking lot,
my husband chases
our daughter through
the trails of the Rouge Valley,
as they await a break between
my cases—to visit the “hopstipal”
where she was born, where
I still work on weekends.