Description
Hush-a-bye, don’t you cry
Go to sleepy little baby.
When you wake, you will find
All the pretty little horses.
Dapples and grays, pintos and bays
All the pretty little horses.
Way down yonder, in the meadow,
Poor little baby, crying “mama”.
Birds and the butterflys flutter ‘round her eyes.
Poor little baby crying “mama”.
Hush-a-bye....
Three o’clock in the afternoon, and Shirley, of Shawnee Memorials, just across Harrison Avenue from Fairview Cemetery, was not taking any s**t off my dad. We had come here at my urging; Dad had mentioned that he still needed to order a stone to mark the plot where Jenny’s and Edith’s remains were...
Published 04/28/11
The sound of pistons pumping, a lawn-mower pulse and wheeze, comes up behind her, and she looks over her shoulder to see the VW coming up fast: black and chrome, some of the shine worn off and anyway looking duller in this flat November light. She keeps her thumbs hooked under the leather of her...
Published 04/22/11