Poem for My Son in the Car – Jennifer K. Sweeney
The wipers sweep two overlapping hills
on the glass, we are quiet against the
squeaky metronome as we often are
before the concerns of the day well up.
Today: Is it dark inside my body?
Our grandson, aged two,
announced that my wife,
who is Mayor of our village,
is “The Princess of War,
The Queen of Nowhere.”
The Past- Kim Bridgford
The past is what you’re looking at:
Sepia, historical, and lost.
Emotions mold and shatter it.
When I was young, I cut the bigger, older trees for firewood, the ones
with heart rot, dead and broken branches, the crippled and deformed