When tragedy strikes we become sleuths. We reconstruct events to establish the belief that it should have been us, it could have been us, it was our fault or we caused their death somehow. The days pass into weeks, the weeks years until the memory fades and details dim.
A Heart-Shaped Amulet
Gazing upon the houses and fields of my kingdomI can see my grandmother outside a cottage –around her neck a heart-shaped amulet.Behind...
How Soon Is Now?
Christmassomewhere in Dixie
a young mothernurses her baby
listening to anythingbut The Smiths
while geekstry to figure out
her nameher location
Students shotthe footage
yet thered hat
that...
Fenwick Island
I wish you were here,for you would understandhow the confident starscan move this nightto companionable pity,unwholesome as it is,how the imperishable seamasquerades its...
