Uncle Ray: Hannah Jane Weber
the adults speak of Uncle Ray’s life in long, mournful sentences
while I pluck tufts of feathers from the green brocade
and blow them like dandelion seeds
but my wishes do not bring him back
A Gift: Hannah Jane Weber
every so often
on early-morning walks
before the sun opens the day . . .
Close: Hannah Jane Weber
“a plastic wind bonnet secures her hair
she wears lightweight gloves
and a long trench coat
that flutters against scrunched pantyhose
her husband walks slowly behind her
one mottled hand carefully shadowing her left elbow”