Preemie
My daughter, now eighteen, is vibrant and healthy. Julia Rose has wild curly blonde hair that frames her face like a lion’s mane.
Stories Poems Essays
A Kind of Poetry in It
Each day he packs. Takes pictures off the walls, adds the dish that held his morning toast. The crumbs too. One slipper goes into his bag. One stays under the bed.
Lipstick on a Cigarette
“It’s him – I’m sure of it.”
“Lizzie, I think your imagination is working overtime. It’s not him.”
Where Courage Lives
I walk into my parents’ home to pick my mom up for a family gathering, and like most days over the past few weeks, palpable sorrow greets me at the door.
curled into sorts.
a darkening sky
feeds on a bloodied woman
dawn beckons freedom
The First 50
While growing up in Spanish Harlem – El Barrio as we knew it during the exhilarating years of the 1970s and 80s – diversity was my monarch, acceptance my culture, and faith my freedom.
Dreamers Magazine Issue 4
I’m pleased to announce the release of Issue 3 of the Dreamers Magazine. In this issue you’ll find…
The Body as Poem
A new mother doesn’t need words to pray. Her body is a pulsing prayer in motion. If there’s a part or fiber of her body not engaged in nurturing I don’t know of it.
Recovery
On a long inland lake shaped like a kidney bean, banked by low cliffs and surrounded by miles of boreal forest, brooded over by a solid grey sky, a lone canoe zigs and zags about the central waters…