The call comes in to the police station. It’s a small town and the voice at the library says “He’s at it again.”
Someone broke in the house the weekend the elderly couple was out of town, a family thing. The TV, the couch and computer were gone.
Faye gives Fred next door her sister’s number to call in case Faye dies. Faye’s 94 and feels okay. Her sister’s 90 and Fred’s
A gathering of elders from the local rest home is out for a walk after dusk on canes and walkers admiring roses and lilies
The old priest who won’t retire despite his bishop’s hints rides his bike around the parish every day for exercise. He waves and smiles at everyone
In the summer of 1956, any Saturday at midnight when the moon was full and the stars were bright, you would see Grandma Groth
The Nazis call her Hilda, this ancient woman who makes a simple living in a bathroom in Berlin giving high colonics
We’re upset when vandals desecrate a cemetery and disrespect the dead not so much when doctors vandalize the womb
Ten years later he still mourns the death of his friend, Bill, such a smart man he could talk to
The ancient man with raspberry hives on his cheeks since childhood will live alone
A student asks the old poet why he has spent so many years writing. The old poet says no one’s asked him that before. He needs a minute to answer.
Hillary was at the podium setting the record straight for people who have a problem with the tone of her voice. She said when Bill was
Early evening traffic’s rather heavy. Autos armadillo home along the Outer Drive as out of mouths of buildings
If he were in high school they’d call him a bully and take him to the principal’s office for counseling.
In your mind you hear words snarling all day long but no poem arrives. The words are locked
