I write poems Because my mother died, Compelled, Like my father Accepts the walker Pressed on him By the aides At the home, who say Get him to try it. His eyesight shrinks Like the end of a Looney Tunes cartoon. The old folks croon He is so popular here With everyone. Like my husband […]
Elizabeth Hill
Elizabeth was a finalist in the 2022 Rattle Poetry Contest. Her poetry has been/is soon to be published in 34 th Parallel Magazine, Blue Lake Review, Last Stanza Poetry Journal, and I-70 Review, among other journals. Hill is a retired Administrative Law Judge who decided suits between learning disabled children and their school systems. Hill lives in Harlem, NYC with her husband and two irascible cats.
Incantation
I refuse to think of it. We set up the hospital bed in the living room. I welcome its narrow whiteness. It makes things simple. I can hardly dial the phone to summon my children. I suspect I was not a good mother, but they swirl about me like fireflies. Do I […]