Poetry
Drawing Whistler’s Mother
After Arrangement in Grey and Black No.1, 1871 He began in black mimicking the Thames frozen and dark in the locks where the jewelweed stilled as though wind itself could sleep inside a portrait without time without teasing those green … Continue reading
I Won’t Know What to Tell Them
The stop sign has been replaced with a shrug, but only on my street. Robins make nests from cigarette butts while my parents play checkers in the attic, hoping one day the power will return so they can finish their … Continue reading