Poetry
after the pink peonies die, their heads droop,/ petals begin their falling,
I’m inside this body that doesn’t work / the way it did before, as if all my angles / were filed down.
The need to catch up on sleep. An ache to sleep on clean sheets. The prospect of waking up dry.
Saleem Hue Penny reads his prize-wining poem, “Never the Less” from BLR Issue 40.
To see how the snow blanketed the trees / along Taughannock Creek Road, I turned off / Route 96 this morning.
In the darkened room, vision dims. /
The doctor leans close, looks eye to eye; / his light invades my pupil’s rim.