Tag Archives: Fathers

Barbershop

by Paul Hostovsky

“Nobody calls it a barbershop anymore
except you, Dad,” says my son
when I tell him that’s where we’re going. Continue reading

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In the Bight

by Taylor Schaefer

The Skimmer slips from the pier at dawn.
Your father’s hand-me-down sweatshirt sleeves
fisted at your wrists to protect tender palms from the chill
of dip net. Follow the line just under the surface, remember Continue reading

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Retrieving My Father’s Ashes on My Birthday

by David P. Miller

It took fewer days for him
to carry me home, lay me in the crib
than for me to carry him home,
place him on a bedroom closet shelf
among the bare clothes hangers. Continue reading

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