Blue Sundays
Poetry

Blue Sundays

Call-home day. No warmth in the word “home” when my mother’s shrill tones froze love into a stalactite. Why did I keep calling? Duty? Compulsion? Masochism? Skipped calls merited punishment, shunning. After her stroke, Mother lost phone privileges. Couldn’t talk, understand, hold the receiver. When Sunday came, I expected peace or relief. Neither came. My … Continue reading

Cutting It
Poetry

Cutting It

Ellen remained sane long enough to give birth to a healthy nine-pound baby boy. She pushed out all her strength and grew fragile as lace. After three years, she turned into scissors, cut holes into the lace until her son, nearly breathless, fell through into the arms of his grandparents. His grandfather stood the boy … Continue reading

No Purple Heart
Poetry

No Purple Heart

The Pentagon has decided not to award the Purple Heart to veterans who suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. KANSAS CITY STAR JAN 12, 2009 Blood flows down his arms, onto fingers fighting the urge to hide inside a fist. He squeezes his eyes shut, takes shallow breaths to block the brackish odor. There is … Continue reading