Behind the Wheel
Our monthly ritual: he’d ask about my cat, uncork a bottle, pour us each some wine, merlot. I’d curse the […]
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Chapbook Prize
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The Sequestered Juror Writes a Rondeau
You find yourself more grateful for the view than for the king size mattress because you don’t sleep with any
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The Public Defender First Approaches the Box
My client’s just like you, except he’s not got gum or ibuprofen in a purse. His silence is his right.
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The Incomprehensibility of Order
Whose turn is it anyway? she jokes to poke fun at me, while I, the oldest, hide my guilt.
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Let Me Go, She Said.
Not because she wanted him to let her go. She wanted to stay on her bed. Not because she wanted
The Gray Man
Part I: The Visit I visited my father one Saturday at the nursing home where we had put him