A writer honors her mother on her 80th birthday.
It’s your smile that calls me back. Your smile and those eyes, brown and trusting, now grown-up, they’ve seen it all, a mom gone on the bathroom floor, your pink …
By Gillian Kessler. You were gone at dawn, gone to save lives, run the show.
By Gillian Kessler. A poem about sons and fathers.
By Gillian Kessler. Anxiety sneaks in on little rat wings, as I prepare to leave my children for a significant amount of time.
A poem from a daughter to her mother.