
Folding the Sheets
When I fold them, I see you my devoted launderer, how you washed and dried and folded for decades in our small attic laundry, where
When I fold them, I see you my devoted launderer, how you washed and dried and folded for decades in our small attic laundry, where
These poems are from her book Dear Me: Poems of loss, grief, and hope in New York’s darkest days Forever I hadn’t considered what was
He made lists. So many lists. He even put an item on a list to make another list.
We danced when we thought you would live. We were tourists among the ghosts in Old Town Albuquerque walking past the crowds past the Navajo
My husband died two years ago this past January. And after two years I hear all sorts of well-meaning comments from friends and family telling
My husband Victor died by suicide on January 11, 2019. He was 67 and we had been married for 30 years. Victor and I first
I took a walk in the woods today, I thought of you along the way. I missed your voice and your smile, I missed you
“Do you think Betty is losing her marbles?” my mother asked me over a Thanksgiving dinner in 2004. The question was triggered by the fact
My dog Shorty is beautiful. Since my husband died, and Shorty came to live with me, our relationship has changed somehow. Profoundly. He was always