Tag Archives: Abigail Chorley

Grace

Knives scrape and scratch across porcelain plates, Sundays come and go and with them all the good people who wrinkle their starched shirts in pews too stiff, TVs tumble out commercials. Ask for love? Get a phone call, a text, … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

End of Service

You held cups of freeze-dried cardboard and boiled brine water that could have been coffee in uniform decent during the last days you stood starboard until waves rolled over head and salt sank your mind or maybe you rose with … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

The Ornithologist

Bloated red chest and crushed head, feathers splayed out and fluttering in the light autumn breeze. The cracked cement opened for beetle bugs and worms to welcome him back to the slow turning; Earth eating its own arms to uphold … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment