What’s Left of My Grandmother’s Signature In her room at Poet’s Walkher first name begins witha cursive J elegantlycompleting itself on the wall, resting in suspended...

The Night I Hear Sharon Olds Read Some rooms look dead from the outside.I eat late. I drink so much. Cold moon over an old drugstore...

HUSBAND A handthat reaches out mooring mefrom a night of wind-tossed dreams luring me back to portthis bed our terra firma the heat of his palmthe only thing...

Fishing Poem The grandfather I never knew fished for hornpout in a pond I heard about but never saw. There my mother’s family spent summers, less...

To the Poet—S. K.— on Channel WNET-13 Your unexpected radiance lightens the gloom in Brooklyn. You hunch; you sit by the sea. Rumbling like the rumpled waves, your voice splashes me....

A Kind of Spring The best time to fall in love is when you share your greatest fear with someone who isn’t listening. There’s a decent chance that will...

Vacuum Not a heavy weight, more like carrying around the five extra pounds from the holidays all year. Or maybe more like something one picks up and sets...

War StoryHere is the book with torn pages. Only half remains to be deciphered. And here is the house with burnt rooms, and a few fading photos scattered across the floor. And...

Breathing Away the Darkness At night, lights appear, unseen amongst daytimes dominating sun. Scattered bits of moon peering curiously through window slats. The warmth of some adjoining room creeping...

The divorce. The final chapter of our union tells of bone deep chagrin- the dumb utter of 'I feel statements' plays itself like a mantra, useless invocations found in the crumpled leaflets from...