Waves slapping the quay as if enraged by the monotony of their monochromatic grays explode, frothy and frenzied, rabid lips curled in disdain for my insignificant witness or for the…
Author: <span>Maura</span>
I wake and smile. You have come to me, but sweetly. It has been forever. Months since I dreamed of you-not-displeased. Where have you been? How is life? I…
I stirred The word “plank” skittered from my mind as if unleashed, as if it were inside a speech balloon. I watched it float away and, still half-asleep,…
Lil’ Punkinhead Hey, little baby, what’s on your mind besides a leafy, smiling pumpkin? Are you fretting over your first kiss the Who and When and Where of it all?…
On 4 March 2007 at Community Church in Amherst, Ohio, John Randall delivered an eloquent speech he had spent weeks editing and perfecting. Entitled “The Perfect Storm,” John talked about…
At 7:26 p.m. one Monday in January 1987, my obstetrician placed my newborn daughter in my arms. Eager to see this little person who hiccupped every night from 11:00 to…
Late one night in September 1982, just before the birth of my second child, I sat down to write a poem that would be the baby’s birth announcement. In my…