DiaBLOGue

Storytime

Even now in the stony 
courtyard under withered
vines the characters 

Early Winter

Home from the dance in a howling blizzard. 
The kitchen door blown open. 
A heap of snow swirled onto linoleum. 
I’m entranced at the violence, 

Clean

Creekbottom 
pushes up between our toes 
like mushrooms. 
Summer water 

In a Far Land

So many women on their knees 
that if I knew how to tell them 
they could find hope here, 
or that there the men 

Pilgrimage

After ten hours of driving, out of the old station wagon.
My mother, roadworn, care poor, 
steps over the fallen gate.