He does not sit. He lies; drifting, sometimes, into the room as if coming through the window, eyes wandering like young men wander the bodies of lovers. I do not know if he knows what he sees. I do not know if he knows I am here. I do not know if he mourns. HeContinue reading “Grandfather”
Tag Archives: Poetry
Small Town
You live in a city but spend your life telling people you come from a small town by the sea. The church there had no steeple; no iron cross rusting in the salty air. You were happy there. You live in a city; you flew there in chains. You grew too much. We all grewContinue reading “Small Town”
Mathew Channer 