Mother’s thin white hair is pulled loosely off her face. Her mischievous smile soaked through with red lipstick. Red the color of mossy raspberries plump with seeds. Her giddiness has survived the transformation into old age. It seeps through the discomfort of her body, the deceptive nature of her mind. She is a schoolgirl with … More Seeds of Youth

Although you are close enough for our hands to touch, I do not dare. I stand in silence over the kitchen counter, watching your mouth move. Talking to you is like talking to myself. Your answers are absent minded, or just absent. It’s a family trait, your distraction. It’s selective hearing, a disconnect. I wish … More Selective Hearing

They throw rocks at me and I run. I am a “Dirty Jew” on the playground. My smooth bobbed hair cut razor sharp at the chin, lips chapped, eyes foggy and moist, I run. After I hit the asphalt, mother holds a rag to my head as the blood trickles down the outside of her … More I Run