“Nativity,” “The Audition” and “First Light”
When she delivered him, occipito posterior, the back
of his skull cradled against her sacrum,
when he crowned, face up, chin up,
it was her father’s chin, her father’s
nose, his broad strong Scotish countenance.
My father was there, wearing a hospital mask, ear to ear,
stretched across his face like a sheet spread at birth,
she would say later it was the first time
she’d seen him cry, her husband. Read more.
“Rose of Mary,” “Taking Christmas Down” and “Perigee”
My mother’s pots of rosemary were tall, manicured
cones, broom swept earthy smelling evergreen,
flecked with lavender drops of blossoms
the shape of small hearts or lips,
she’d send me outside to retrieve a stem each time
she baked a chicken Read more.