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 »