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Knock

Originally posted on Red's Wrap: My friend’s mother was dying in her living room. I knew that but I didn’t. She’d told me her mother was terminally ill but it never really sank in. Oh, that’s why you brought her across the country and set up a hospital bed in your living room. I…

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Friday Round-Up: Last of 2017

I’m so sad about the news that Sue Grafton, the mystery writer who started with A is for Alibi and got all the way to Y is for Yesterday has died. There will be no Z says her family. She hadn’t started it and there would be no ghost-writing just to complete the alphabet. Hearing this…

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My Mother’s Face

Originally posted on Red's Wrap: After my father died, I found this photo in his bedroom. It was leaning against the mirror of the vanity where my mother had sat painting her nails in a room dark except for the small lamp, her red nails gleaming in the dim light. She painted them with…

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When Loathing Becomes Reflex

Originally posted on Red's Wrap: I’m no body language expert but I know loathing when I see it. The videos of the hand slap and this later evasive move could replace all the words in the dictionary definition of loathing. loathing 1. strong dislike mingled with disgust; intense aversion. 2. physical disgust, as for…

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Inside Out

Use the side door, out of sight Ring the buzzer just once Imagine hot bowls, padded chairs Hunger for the light, all the light Shuffle quarters in your pocket, the dime Nonchalant, used to waiting your turn Someone will come, don’t ring twice Twist there in the wind Hunkered, shrunken to a kernel Feel the…

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Christmas Night

Originally posted on Red's Wrap: A good Christmas shows the sublime and the ridiculous Offers the possibility of too much wine Hides puzzles and gives answers expected for years Replaces old worries with new Finds bottom lines below the ones firm in our minds Reminds that not caring is a dream never realized Watches the clock for the next day to come ? ? ?

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The Bluest Bike

I want the cream-colored bike at Target, the one with the old fashioned handlebars and a brown leather seat. It has fenders like the big blue bike I had as a kid that I rode down 10 1/2 Mile Road, a wide dirt road with fat potholes that filled to the brim after a good…

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Friday Round-Up: Good Catch

Every day this week had a message or a lesson but it would be futile to order them Monday through Friday like the underwear I wore when I was six. I always wore Wednesday on Monday anyway. Tonight in a tiny hospital room where one of my children was having an unexpected and blessedly brief…

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Good Luck to Me

I’m wondering if it’s a mistake that my husband’s my best friend. I see that in obituaries all the time. The surviving spouse talking about how he or she lost their best friend and I think isn’t it enough that you lost your spouse? You should also lose your best friend at the same time?…

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The Saying of It Will Take Over

Originally posted on Red's Wrap: I have a poem in this chapbook. Because I’m not a poet, I had to look up the definition of chapbook. “A chapbook is a small collection of poetry, generally no more than 40 pages, that often centers on a specific theme.” (Writer’s Digest) When the call for poetry submissions was posted by Margaret Rozga, a Wisconsin poet with a national reputation, a long time college professor and advocate for social justice, I hesitated. I write a blog, I write essays. My genre is creative nonfiction. I’ve written some things that were structured on paper to look like poems. But were they poems? What is…

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