Monthly Archives: March 2015

In Praise of Clean Panties, My Mother

Who even now might walk through my front door with my own son in tow, having kept him for the night, having schlepped him to church to praise the small ways he points at the blood-tipped palms of Christ and … Continue reading

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There Is A God I’ve Wanted All My Life

The way you feel describing objective truth. The way the shadow of two bald blue branches on your son’s pale nighttime wall creak in and out Like pincers, like rusted tweezers Like a wishbone, like a horror Like the dreams … Continue reading

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