Let My Hands Too Bring the Day

Let My Hands Too Bring the Day

The red edge of morning, like a razor,slits the dark. No more excuses. TodayI will be sharpened. I will be moremyself as I would be. No espaliered intent—centered, leaning into each momentthe way a ladder leans toward the windowof a burning house; I claim the...
Saint Simone

Saint Simone

She starved herselfthinking about grace.How difficult it was to be nothingbut flesh: prickly, contrarious,pretending to get by on cigarettes and headaches.As a student, she witnessedthe heedless velocity of factories; of campaignspreparing to turn peopleinto things....
The Father

The Father

Your dead father dogs youlike the white mutt that roams along the fishing holes and walksthe edge of gravel roads, sometimes at a trot, most times slow,but with purpose, muscle and sinew protecting old bones. The fatherin silence with pipe clenched between his teeth...
Honor Cord

Honor Cord

It was not a hick town but rather a prairie town, one where there was often nothing for young people to do but drive around and attempt to reckon with the vastness of the land. The prairies, for example, made Violet Wells feel small. The grasses were high and pale,...