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Poems

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  • Trash

    Good you are trashing, my husband says, when I send him a photo

  • Our Bodies Ourselves

    No one would sit by Vicky Syme

  • Pip

    Withered pip of a boy, now grey and halt

  • Given Plums

    Early July my sister and I filled two sacks of plums from our orchard. We shook each tree until the ripest orbs fell

  • You Have to Lead the Sheep

    A dream struck a dream

  • LATE

    The last time my father returned from work

  • A Singleton & Self Portrait: Between the Car and the Sea

    They climb to their lookout, each day, different,

  • Hi. My Name Is Billy Hollands.

    And there it is, that little tilt of my head –

  • Two Poems

    You search for the best doctors, try to curb her pain—

  • Thanksgiving Near Cape Coast & Pine Cones: April 2020

    Churning along through viscous mud,

  • This Moment

    You know when darkness seems to pour

  • Abbatoir Time

    The widower pushed the tailgate shut and fell.