No To Christianity

Sheehan and I napping together, about 42 years ago

My Father’s Hands

The house where I grew up Sometimes became My father’s hands — I remember him, angry, Staring at me Those hands with braided fingers Wrapped around themselves Cold and hard.

My Father’s Hands

The house where I grew up Sometimes became My father’s hands — I remember him, angry, Staring at me Those hands with braided fingers Wrapped around themselves Cold and hard.

Sheehan

Sheehan

Lindy felt the early tugs, Her, womb becoming tidal and loud, the fetus, turning, crying out a tiny beast. A braying sigh.

Sheehan

Lindy felt the early tugs, Her, womb becoming tidal and loud, the fetus, turning, crying out a tiny beast. A braying sigh.