Monthly Archives: June 2019

Four years old,      and I’ve already been schooled.

after Mary Powell The matron’s eyes are dark, and hollow. Her skirt is an indistinct pleated gray, while a darted white blouse billows below the boat-necked breast and above an elasticized waist.

after the lady Skagit Sunlight floods half the road on which I travel; a shadow cast by the guardrail obscures my lane— the westbound side, which rushes past bitterbrush, bluebunch wheat grass, ponderosa, and sandstone. This Methow thirst can consume … Continue reading →