Tag Archives: Katie Gleason

The Thing Is

You’ll do more than just survive. A father will thank you for listening, for saving his life. You’ll always eat a little too much at Thanksgiving dinner. One day, you won’t fit into your favorite jeans anymore, but you’ll find … Continue reading

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Her Song

My floors are buried in dog hair so I pull out the vacuum Lauryn Hill’s rich, bottomless voice soars over the bellow of my cleaning She rouses my tired arms and together we sing about everything Her afro bobs next … Continue reading

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After The War Ended

The Springwater trail was a dream for us that August afternoon Brimming with people Faded yellow dandelions, ragged weeds Moist, rotting wood Lining edges of concrete, pockets of wet green bursting, river pulsing us on We wanted to taste each … Continue reading

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The Disease

Black winter             casts a cold net                         over our bedroom Our old greyhound dreams             his cloudy eyes moving             like frantic birds                         beneath his paper eyelids I watch you as you trudge             into our oversized bed                         your body weary and spent I … Continue reading

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Leap Year

tomorrow is your birthday dusk’s air is braided with gluttonous hummingbirds ruby and emerald feathers blazing I eat their glow ravenous for light my body a hungry bowl those tiny beasts are mating, diving through baby leaves, trilling their earnest … Continue reading

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Abuja

it was many years ago I couldn’t tell you who I met             except her:             a tiny woman, shivering in her dim cave             no headscarf and even I wore one             nothing but soiled green and yellow fabric             twisted in an elaborate … Continue reading

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