September 2019 – Michigan Quarterly Review

September 2019

two ceramic hands, one black, one grey, holding open a piece of paper with hair in the middle

Excavation

After my dad died and my mom’s worsening dementia forced her into a care facility, it fell to my sister and me to clean out their house. When we walked inside, it was like uncovering an intact archaeological site. My dad’s closet was still filled with his fleece jackets and golf shirts. Inside the pantry, opened bags of potato chips and crackers were sealed with clips. I expected my mom to walk into the kitchen, grab the half-used bottle of Windex from the shelf and clean the table.

fireworks in the night underneath flashes of light

Long Exposure

On that last day, we read images taken
from a moving car, listening

to the artist speak of wanting that way
time stretches things out

readable in the frame

twenty yard line of a football field

Formidable Adaptation

Discovering a new sport, learning the language of this sport and its rules, is not easy in the beginning. I have played soccer for fourteen years. I still play, but one day all of that stopped.

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