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Dorothy was the kind of relative one needs a chart to understand. Married to the cousin of my grandmother. She seventy. I seven. She the giver of baggies of treats, cans of coke, sweet smiles. She the scolder when her sister told tales of Gypsies… Continue Reading “Dorothy’s Cross”
Anxiety is a free-fall from too-high-up, Jetting toward the rock-hard, Flailing in a grab-nothing way, Screaming in a make-no-sound panic. Anxiety is Good Friday. Not in a Sunday’s-coming hope But In a hidden-through-Jerusalem grief. Good Friday is dark Friday, Black Friday, Nothing-good-about-this-day Friday.… Continue Reading “A Poem For Good Friday”
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