She stared in the mirror, one hand holding the ends of her hair, the other running a brush as gently as possible over its knotted curls; sparks crackled green and sharp, and she didn’t want to burn down the apartment complex. Continue reading
Tea and Sympathy
“What’s the plan for today?” he asked.
Georgia watched out the window as squirrels chased each other through new-fallen snow, then up and around the trunk of the red oak they’d planted at Jessi’s birth. Snow chunks dropped like overcooked spuds. Continue reading
Hope strained, smoke-stained streets
Shattered hearts, Minnesota
Patience, as we heal.
(This, on top of COVID. And those who gather together–prayers broken by opportunistic anarchists–risk a steeper next wave in the coming weeks.)
© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2020)
Habit well-practiced for years
My coffee brings cheer
“Wake me up, when September ends?”
“It won’t be that long.”
“See you in September?”
“Surely, they’ll lift restrictions before then.”
“You’re the one who keeps saying no.” Continue reading