a mouse hiding
behind the laundry basket
as though it were a child
that had broken something
I've yet to find

reminding me
of a chalk outline
where a crime
has been committed
the dark edge of water
that has flooded the basement

The "Tribute to Marjorie Content" page has been updated.

my dad unscathed after years
of military service
only to be robbed
and left for dead
in the streets of saint louis

the energy of a song
rewinding itself
no one has to ask
the cicada
for an encore

the request to sign a politician's
birthday card refused
for all the dead soldiers
and civilians who won't
be having any more birthdays

five rockets fired
at a school in Afghanistan
who tells the parents
their missing children
were mistaken for terrorists

The loss of a child is a wound that never heals.

miles from home
the only comfort I find
is in the lacework
of shadows
crossing the wall

in the car
waiting for my son
at airport arrivals
I switch the radio
to his favorite station

looking as though
they've been out
all night partying
the drooping hats
of sunflowers