One Thing He Misses, from Life in a Prison

He doesn’t miss sameness. No, not the sameness. The sameness of lapping the gravel track in ellipses to nowhere for 3,000 days, the same treeless yard, the same bleachers, faceless, the same conversation each day and each week.   Not frigid concrete and pseudo brick walls, the cinder block shelves in a make-shift greenhouse. The… Continue reading One Thing He Misses, from Life in a Prison

Dear Youth

You, who are always on the road, it’s been too long since we last talked. Remember, at the playground, when I heard your laugh, like cloudless sky? Your voice was round as blueberries, like children singing campfire songs. You, of merely tender years, of cartwheels on sun-brown hands across a boardwalk, unaware of other people passing by,… Continue reading Dear Youth

More Than the Sting

The air stings our eyes like an onion just cut, the sting of a slap, a small oven burn— like tears squeezed back until mother's casket was lowered, the cables that grimaced and squeaked.   It’s not just the cold that surrounds us and stings, but the notion of yet one more winter itself. How many Christmas… Continue reading More Than the Sting