| This Edition's Poetry |
Events Unfold
for Jimmy
On Friday afternoon
you were bending down
picking up itchy balls
in your front yard
and when you looked at me
I thought I saw something strange
in your face
but, maybe, it was just the weight
of learning that you lost
your thirty-six year old nephew
to a drug overdose
the night before.
You were seeking solace, no doubt
in drone-like activity
fighting off the echo
of your own daughter’s death
as events unfold, backwards
taking on different meaning
and there you are Tuesday
in a hospital bed
hoping to make a full recovery
from the stroke
that, perhaps, came to quell
the flood of sadness in your head.
by Marietta Calvanico