May knew that it was unlikely that she was seeing Mickey. He’d been dead these twenty years. But she was pushing her walker over the threshold between the bedroom and the living room, feeling the deep ache in her hands and knees, and there Mickey was standing on the porch peering in through the shadows … Continue reading The Invitation
Tag: life
Ferrying Mr. Billingsw
“Hey, Ferry Boy,” Olly Collings said. He was fishing off the landing pier, and he muttered it with a sneer as Ricky passed him to gather the guests for the trip across the lake. “Ferry Boy’s gonna ferry a fairy today.” “Go to hell,” Ricky said. “Not me,” Nate said, “I ain’t ferryin’ fairies.” Ricky … Continue reading Ferrying Mr. Billingsw
Not Dementia
A wintering of her mind churns the gone familiars of ninety-two years? Posted in response to the Ragtag Community Daily Prompt cyclone.
Plans
-Visit mom in hospital -Pick up my C-PAP Those sun lit mountain peaks—so far way
Home is Where
He was looking down at her mailbox, at the address there, nodding his head the way a person does who has found what he is looking for and now has no idea what he is going to do with it. At first Joanie thought he was just some tramp who had wandered a bit far … Continue reading Home is Where
Over the Calving Yard
Over the calving yard coursing the blue, cold air magpies watch, wait.
After Long Absence
The blank of the window that long ago he dreamed from vacantly out at him
Rain Comes
“ForthelovaGod, Micky” Eunice said from the crack in the door, “You’ll catch your death.” Mike heard her but did not turn. It was raining. Not just a high skirted wisp of clouds trailing across the sky with more promise than water, but a full throttle, fine spray, all day rain. He stood in it. He … Continue reading Rain Comes
Soil Entombs no Deeper
Soil entombs no deeper chagrin for gilded nativity than barned birth So how does empty blue of sky exult any more than the brown odor of earth?
Weaning
In the slow, urgent cadence of cattle, the black cows move again across a landscape of yellow grass and snow to where they last heard the familiar bawl, dumb to all but ache— whether of teat or heart we men cannot know, though we watch and have had familiar loves that for a summer of … Continue reading Weaning
Home of Have, Poems by Lee Robison 