Blind, widowed for nine years, strokes had ravaged her
body. Sitting beside her, holding her hand, I asked how
her day had been. She turned her milky eyes toward me
and softly spoke, I saw your dad walk by the window
today... he looked so handsome... I waved... but I don't
think he saw me.
black with coal-dust
boys with holes in their shoes
walk rails home
David Gross lives with his wife on a small farm in southern Illinois near the Shawnee National Forest, where they hike and bird as often as possible. His most recent collection is Little Egypt (Flutter Press, 2017). He has recent poems in Acorn, Common Ground Review, Front Porch Review, and Otata.
David Gross lives with his wife on a small farm in southern Illinois near the Shawnee National Forest, where they hike and bird as often as possible. His most recent collection is Little Egypt (Flutter Press, 2017). He has recent poems in Acorn, Common Ground Review, Front Porch Review, and Otata.
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