I could simply kill you now, get it over with, who would know the difference? I could easily kick you in, stove you under, for all those times, mean on gin, you rammed words into my belly. (p. 52)
Barbara Blatner
alcoholism, barbara-blatner, cancer, colon-cancer, conflict, daughters, death, death-and-daughters, death-and-dying, death-and-love, death-and-sickness, death-and-son, death-of-a-loved-one, dying, dying-at-home, grief, grieving, grieving-the-loss-of-a-mother, hate, healing, letting-go, life, love, love-and-hate, memoir, memoirs, mother, mountains, new-york, new-york-quarterly, poem, poems, poetry, son, soul-searching, verse, verse-memoir, verses