Author name: Rattle

Poems

At the Love Feast

Father’s special homily gave Mother
and the choir some rest. I leaned
across Delphina’s lap beneath her arm.

Audio, Poems, Prompt Poem of the Month

White Rabbit

Late, I rush down the stairs. Distraction, tiredness, hunger, an error in muscle-memory, whatever the cause, I miscalculate the steps. My foot dangles, leather-clad toes seeking, yearning for something not there.

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