Grand Merci – by Andrew Shaughnessy
She didn’t need a hungover rush hour sprint to start her day. There would be no typo in her slide deck.
Read More Grand Merci – by Andrew ShaughnessyShe didn’t need a hungover rush hour sprint to start her day. There would be no typo in her slide deck.
Read More Grand Merci – by Andrew ShaughnessyA songbird lands on the tip of a cob
and pecks away at the soft kernels.
A gust of wind blows a secret by us
that only she could catch.
I pedal fast across the cemetery,
pump my legs alongside collapsing stones
and sodded over graves,
listening for echoes of ancient burial rites—
not wanting to hear them.
When storm clouds swell the valley streams,
And starlight on wild water gleams,