Sometimes the small stories fall into the cracks of my couch
along with the crumbs and pens and unnamable, sticky objects
fished out and quickly discarded.
I’ve watched furtively as the potted cyclamen has slowly died
on the back porch, callous to its suffering. The waxy pellet I
threw away was the pain of every living thing.
Sometimes the small stories aren’t small at all, they’re just
unrecognizable in their current form. Outside, my neighbor
is mowing his lawn. The tender grass won’t stop screaming.
is a state-sponsored advocate for residents in long-term care facilities. He lives in Crystal Lake, Illinois, USA with his wife, Vickie, and daughter, Sage. He is a three-time Pushcart nominee and a Best of the Net nominee whose work has appeared in more than a thousand publications.