Widow’s Walk by Deborah Hauser Mist shrouds the city. Clouds hang low, still sulking. Thunder rattles concrete bones. Sirens announce some new injury. I sip a cold, weak cup of tea. I’ve lost track of time, has it been three... Continue Reading →
Apartment 6B by Deborah Hauser I ride an unfamiliar subway line downtown clutching a bakery box by the tense red and white string rehearsing how to greet her. 6B. I press the bell firmly. She buzzes sharply in reply. At... Continue Reading →
Poetry Breakfast 