You . . . Again
Dean Robbins

“I know. It’s just habit,”
he says standing too close
to an old memory;
trying to warm himself
against a coal burner
some weeks ago removed
from ever offering
to stay the cold again.
I smile, thinking of you,
and wish I did not know
exactly what he means.

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Family Reunion
Dean Robbins

The snakeskin, most complete and long enough Continue reading “Dean Robbins, Two Poems” →