Baby Good Friday Poems

Four months pregnant
show them the belly.
Real not plastic,

Ultrasound glares pierce
a lack of eye contact

stuck at the Papa John's
on Fountainbridge. Eleven PM.

Drunken men to be avoided.

A...

Read More

Looking back, one thing comes clean-glass clear
you were always there for me subduing every fear.

I tried to do my duty, be a husband strong and...

Read More