In My Father’s House
by David Cope we walk thru his rooms, sit where he sat, tell stories — the wild ride back from Hana, his teenage self scaling Long’s Peak on the
Last Look
by David Cope the room is silent, empty but for the bier. she lies, sheet draped over her body — she is so small in death
Mais où sont les neiges d’antan?
by David Cope what became of the girl whose dreams dressed up for Madame Pomponelli’s neighborhood fashion show, the sixth grader who skipped on
No Place Nowhere
by John Michael Mouskos She said, “There was a knock at the door; The boy had returned, Walking through the night, To be with us once more.”
By The Sea
by John Michael Mouskos “I hear Gordon’s been painting; He must be feeling better in himself.” “No, Gordon’s busy dying; The cancer’s spread.
eschatology
by Pamela Twining I laughed at Death again today I laughed as only Life can laugh snatched tomorrow from the jaws of the bone collector burning