A bear is chasing me through a meadow and I’m running as fast as I can but he’s gaining on me—it seems he’s always gaining on me. I’m running and running but also thinking I should just turn around and say, “Stop it! Stop chasing me. We both know you aren’t going to catch me.... Read more »

at my kitchen sink, the bathroom upstairs clogged with family from out of town spending the night after the wake and the after-wake—cold beverages have been consumed and comfort food, leftovers bulging both the fridge and the minifridge. In our fifties, both half-asleep half-awake, we face each other. My sister’s smile foams white down her... Read more »

I stood on the porch of our raised cottage           and saw my two ruddy children crouched below in the grass           over a hard-backed beetle and I was taken with this phobia           that goes up and up with me and suddenly I saw myself fallen,           my body twisted on the pavement, a thigh bare and scraped... Read more »

Seems like a long time Since the waiter took my order. Grimy little luncheonette, The snow falling outside. Seems like it has grown darker Since I last heard the kitchen door Behind my back Since I last noticed Anyone pass on the street. A glass of ice water Keeps me company At this table I... Read more »

Wind and the sound of wind— across the bay a chainsaw revs and stalls. I’ve come here to write, but instead I’ve been thinking about my father, who, in his last year, after his surgery, told my mother he wasn’t sorry—that he’d cried when the other woman left him, that his time with her had... Read more »

Someone dragged a hide-a-bed onto the sand last night. This morning there it sits, empty as an open clam, clearly slept in, face to face with the Pacific. Less graceful than a Massey-Ferguson and less expected. Even the dogs, after marking it theirs, shake their heads. Still, I recognize the impulse, the urge to reach... Read more »