I REMEMBER

  The tug in my belly. The tears beginning, the disbelief.  How could this be happening? Why? I want this. I hate this! I want a different life. I’m free, finally free! NO! STOP! Do what I want, what I say!  Why, how, could you do this? Love someone else, want to be with her, hurt our love?  What of our love? What of me? What of our children? I hate you! I want nothing to do with you! I want you –...read more

Hearing Italian

By Kathleen MacGregor I remember my grandmother’s house And the smell of tomato sauce, spaghetti – steam warmth and espresso bitter and promising. I watched my grandmother do the dishes. Her hands were always moving. Sometimes she’d sit to grate Parmesean cheese and she’d be resting. Uncles and aunts would come there and My grandfather would cook too. He had been a chef and before that...read more

Blaming Rage

By Kathleen MacGregor The first thing I want to do Is blame you. I can’t find my keys And I’m running late. It’s your fault. I knock over the wine glass, Which you set on the counter, I blame you. You’re not even here But it’s your fault. And because you’re not here, Which I blame you for, I can see that I’m mad at myself. For losing track, for being late for breaking a glass. So I rage...read more