When I Am Most Sick

When I am most sick, she confesses,My mother’s face swims closeLike a dimly discerned formOn tree bark on which I trace the tenderness I cravedDrawn …

When I Am Most Sick

dVerse — Quadrille Monday 159 — Strange

image link I wonder how many times I’ve said, “whatever works”? It must be in the thousands by now. How many times have eyes looked for support for …

dVerse — Quadrille Monday 159 — Strange