Posted in art, poetry, writing


Fundraiser  They all shared the same memory,  all those moms and dads dressed up in black, shirts ironed, wined glasses drained, purple teeth exposed in opposition to the tragedy lacing their hearts.  She told me she couldn’t look at any more pictures, the blue tinged lips, more tubes than days old, the hands they’d never hold again, ghosts smiling slide after slide on the screen in the corner of the room, the babies that inspired the sad moms and dads to tie their ties and sip wine, signing checks, praying for miracles for the sake of someone else’s child.

Dedicated to my sister Becky, whom I never met.

–Leanne Rebecca