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Streaks

Streaks

I am watching pink streaks lighten the gray dawn, deepening and glowing as the minutes pass above silhouetted firs, brightness glowing from the bottom, skyward. I think about my mother, seated in her chair facing sliding glass doors to the porch,…

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Bed Alarm

Bed Alarm

I don’t tremble, but they assume I’m Katherine Hepburn’s kind. We share our Parkinson’s frozen mask, expressionless, involuntary deceit of emotion. My shuffling gait halts while I calibrate my balance, refusing my wife’s arm even as my committee of limbs won’t…

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