The House

I’ve never visited Grace Street, but draft an image from my mother’s stories. The…

weak cloth

we are made of weak cloth and barely woven fabric sewed, having chosen a design because…

Unfoundland

  When they were old men they couldn’t recall if they had strode that mystery, or…

The Door

“Go shut the door,” he told me, and I stopped a second, wondering exactly what he…

Language

when my mother died so did our language the one we spoke each day at the kitchen table…

Wasted Talent

“When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a…