Issue: 2025

We came upon the overturned boat engulfed in catbrier, timbers rotting, far from any body of water. How had we missed it? Hardly any blue left on the hull. You were leaving me, I was leaving you, but neither of us had so declared. One thing we always d … Continue Reading

A newsletter came in the mail in the fall of 1993. On the front page of these stapled mimeographed pages, there was a photo of a boy in a wheelchair with a trophy from Challenger Baseball, Little League’s program for kids with disabilities. Ten-year-ol … Continue Reading

The mulberry tree in the garden still green in November understated in the red, gold chorus line lets go. Suddenly, without warning. Naked. A fury of large heart-shaped leaves applauds from the orchestra seats. Not a slow strip tease like Tempest Storm … Continue Reading

In old age, parents flutter like moths at the edge of sight. You know they’ll be gone in the morning. They leave a smatter of wing-colored dust, tiny scales that don’t wash off. Are they waving a white flag? Am I? I remember once, I asked my father why … Continue Reading

including the Peter Pan bus driver. He seems normal enough – until we’re on the road. With him at the wheel and on the microphone, he’s got a captive audience. “This bus will make the following stops: New Britain, Connecticut; Hartford, Connecticut; Sp … Continue Reading

Naked in a canoe, you emerge blossoming like tawdry April in a town that’s turned its back to the river. The span is iron trestle, riveted to carry freight, all green and rust. Magnolia, dogwood strike out improbably against the wet and dark forgotten … Continue Reading

Her face lit up the sky Hovering there In full control of tides and time Nothing so banal as day But night And crops And blood And seasons All that matters All that mothers … Continue Reading