MagazinePoetry

Bigger than Him

It was bigger than him Smooth heart wood     called a walking stick For a three-year-old trying to be older It’s not about walking     running Being first down the trail      nor about the tangle Of want and need        in his legs…
Poetry

Having the Last Word

I’m holding a thought    in my mouth I’ve got it polished and smooth, and oh it’s hard II the middle like a rock        I spotted its glint just behind you In the neighbor’s decorative gravel          a confident little sas Calling…