In the wrenching spell of nightmare, something cadaverous, phosphorescent on the forest floor. Bleached like a drowned man months missing. Current-carried, caught on some subterranean thing. Tell me it isn’t you. Tell me. Oh, my Son. My life.


Dad’s wish

Dad’s been long in his grave. We didn’t know each other, really. At nineteen, I felt like a fake, attending bedside vigils, not knowing what to say or do. When i got the call, I was silent. Only silent. Fifty years ago. And now, I’m a year away from living as long as he did. […]