Monthly Archives: October 2014


The Ice Fisherman

In January the fisherman hammered loose nails on his wooden shanty, then dragged it onto Lake Butte de Morts, a glacier-carved, frozen finger of the Fox. Bundled in wool muffler and fur-lined parka he began his day’s work, and sometimes, I was his helper. With blonde braids wound tightly under knitted mounds of bright green [...]

October 13th, 2014|


I lie on a sheet-covered table with arms raised, shoulders pressed on a cast of my upper body like those hanging on dress racks by the wall, a crisp spring line in the latest shade of purple. I stare at a giant steel replica of the goose-necked lamp on my childhood desk and think nothing [...]

October 13th, 2014|


For Rob   Here, at eye level, are the last of the lilacs. Not a heady purple, but a quiet color, a lavender as muted as Grandma’s soap after weeks of washing. And they’re not the luscious bunches she’d display in tall green jars on her windowsill! These lilacs are the remnants of spring, holding [...]

October 13th, 2014|


I walk down the center aisle in a dimly lit chapel, mourners hunched together in wood pews like crows on power lines, black shoulders sagging. Amid sobs and the click click of rosary beads, a white coffin no bigger than a toy chest lies open. And candles, more candles than he is old, light the [...]

October 13th, 2014|


I’m two driveways from home and wonder when the ash overtook the yard, shade soaking the grass like dark honey. Its trunk has raised the earth and the circles of dandelions at its base, bright yellow heads of hope. I remember how my father mowed his weeds flat, yanked roots with his right hand efficient [...]

October 13th, 2014|