Memorial Lake

Editor back-issues, poetry

Thousands of leaves scatter toward us, New Year’s confetti. Icicles—test tubes, bruised apples—a baby’s beating heart. A needle pokes in and out in and out sewing your name.   This is the season in between seasons.   Our paddles cut through water, reminds me of my mother’s porridge thick, lumpy, never the same consistency. Your fishing line jerks, the fish…

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