By Laura C. Lippman Dolly Driving I-90 through the dark Wyoming night summer 1972, two-thirds the way from Philly to Seattle, no one waiting at my destination, the only radio station in the whole godforsaken state was Country. I had been traveling to the beat of a different drum singing Linda Ronstadt to myself, belting…
Poetry
Global Warming: No Such Thing
The temperatures in Europebroke records yesterdayfor the third straight year. The news reporteda three-year-old locked himselfin the family car and died. His Dad was gardening.His Mother was napping.Whose fault could thispossibly be? ~ Laura C. Lippman Laura C. Lippman is a retired family practice physician and poet. Her two collections of poetry, The Catastrophist’s Daughter…
December 2023, Literary, Poetry
It Was a Night of Psychedelic Canaries at Grandmother’s House
The baby screams in the house full of leftover turkey & stuffing, fries and pies potatoes mashed by another shrieker & his dad. Sleep settles into all the warm beds but mine. Awake as windows rattle I pen a poem. Stillness embraces all the others downstairs. Our dogs mumble in sleep, paws tapping. I imagine…