2 poems by Lise Whidden, Review by Brendan McEntee

                                                                                                                                               Guilt Defined                                                A cognitive disease leaves flesh intact,                                               yet every memory is invaded by an uncontrolled growth                                               of cells which consume joy.                                                Related words: It’s the not dying first that kills me.                                                I can still hear him crying while I washed dishes.                                               I muttered the word spoiled                                                until it was spelled in the bubbly dishwater.                                                Hush, baby boy. Mama’s […]

2 poems by Lise Whidden, Review by Brendan McEntee Read More »