It’s autumn. Leaves have taken over the back porch and I sit at the window, hungry for soup. You have been gone for years now...
Outside Merriam Park Library, a rusty black bike shares a lock with another well-worn bike stowed in the metal rack. Both nose their
I hold out my hand and feel the soft tapping of raindrops on my palm. They are cool and don’t seem to care where they end up. I take out my
You resist when I take you down, refusing to end your dance with the October breeze. Flapping, twirling in your many threaded cotton gowns,