-- for the family of Trayvon Martin
This poem wants to write itself backwards.
Wishes it were born memory instead, skipping
time like a record needle stuck on the line
of your last second. You sit up. Brush not blood,
but dirt from...
I've lived in Boston for almost 13 years and have never been downtown to see the Marathon -- but this year one of my close friends raised money for a local hospital and was running for the first time. She wanted her friends and family at the finish line, so...