Tag Archives: Mike Dillon

Boyhood Island

Dusk darkens the distant hills and serenity of water beyond the lip-soft waves. No bridge of iron or land bridge reaches this place where you’ve beached your skiff. You will lie down and awake in safety. That was not the … Continue reading

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Her, Him

All ten fingers are fluent but this morning she employs the right index finger only. Slowly, she plunks the piano with the minor-key deliberation of a black horse hauling a casket-bearing caisson. Thirty-five years of marriage and never was there … Continue reading

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