What Happens Next? You Asked Me That Night

As I knelt by your head, held your long fingers and dripped the morphine under your tongue. When you are ready, follow the light. But later I wished I had asked him instead: Where are you now, my Father, my friend?    Are you an elder in opiate dreams, with prayers like ghosts hovering over your bed?   Are… Continue reading What Happens Next? You Asked Me That Night

Innocence and White Windowsills

It's sold now, the house on a distant hill, and the gulls are but echoes in my ears, the cistern of the harbor tipped and spilled, the limestone cliffs sundered by the years.   I think about its white windowsills, the horizon edged in clean enamel paint— each a testament to Yankee will, invoking the… Continue reading Innocence and White Windowsills

Putting on My Mother’s Face

It’s only 6:45 a.m. You’re early today, looking back at me when I squint in the mirror above the sink, wearing that zippered robe, smearing cold cream on lips to remove your face before you put your face back on.   Remember we had the same sable eyes, until one of mine faded to green—yours… Continue reading Putting on My Mother’s Face

Wish I Didn’t Know Now

“Wish I didn’t know now what I didn’t know then.” -Bob Seger, Singer/Songwriter, “Against the Wind”   That our generation naively assumed that change was due, the status quo doomed. And now life ends without a boom and barely a whimper—often too soon, and in the algorithm a debt to Mother Earth, from acute neglect.… Continue reading Wish I Didn’t Know Now