I can’t be torn like this pulled between the love of my life and a high and mighty father he does things he shouldn’t his rulership is final I’m moving out in the box go pictures I’ve drawn a few notes Jack sent very few actually as he’s dyslexic letters from my first boyfriend, Bill who moved to Alaska letters from Kiko Matsuaka and Dorolthy Foo, Asian pen pals a stack from Mike Ralf, my brother’s Marine buddy we’ve written each other for two years. airmail envelops stamped Viet Nam I built the box from scrap wood I found in the basement dad followed me around, watching he said the box wasn’t square I didn’t answer him, just kept building I lined it with black velvet a special place for my keepsakes the outside is painted green glued along the top edge, ornate gold trim a safe place to keep my treasures it'll sit in the closet of my new apartment, once I find one.
Tuesday, April 25, 2017
Those of you who know me, know that I write poetry as well as fiction and creative non-fiction. Recently, three of my poems were selec...
Mr. Trump, the President Says “Mexico’s not sending its best.” And about that wall “I’ll build the best of all.”
Again, the missing crystal comes to mind, dainty glasses so tiny that one could crush a cordial glass in the palm of the hand. I reason...