April, in Ontario, is as unpredictable as my father’s temperament – sometimes warm and encouraging, sometimes icily treacherous like that morning, in 1973, when coaxed
Category: Family
Forgive Her Wickedness
I know my sister’s wicked, have been witness to her acts, but believe me when I say the fault is not her own – You
Talk To Me Of Horses
Talk to me of horses, the young man says, thin locks of blonde matted on a sweaty brow, flashes of blue that fade as eyes
Tribulations
Originally posted on One Woman's Quest II:
Preoccupation with my own woes blinded me to my husband’s suffering, which culminated in a heart attack…
A Poem in Three Voices
Page three! Father would say whenever she opened mouth to speak – inevitable tale waiting I just want you to hear me, I remember feeling,
Snapdragons
Snapdragons transport me back to father’s gardens – the pleasure of pinching delicate flower mouths forbidden as I was, tiny feet banished from tiers of
