family

An Unholy Mess

An Unholy Mess

 

Mike stood half-crouched, balancing a cup of hot coffee in one hand while lowering himself into the redwood porch chair.  Right then he heard her.  Rather, he heard the slider open and then the sound of her broom sweeping against the rough boards of the deck floor.  He sighed.  He had come out here specifically to get away from her.

Forty Years Later

Forty Years Later

Why bother to root for my brother Joel?
Surely, your quarterback’s body is earth’s, Joel.

You knew how to sell elaborate jokes—
seemingly, you stand at my door grinning, Joel.

Named for the prophet of locusts and kairos,
has the Lord dealt wondrously with you, Joel?

Our mother was a saver of used things
that someday would be useful; she wept, Joel.

I could not have borne following your hearse
through rain. You are buried in sunlight, Joel.

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