“Refugees” published in Ithaca Lit 2015



I brought in the stray. He’d been mewling

on my front stoop, shivering in the rain.


Then one more and another, until my entire

life was a collection of lost souls, an assortment


of the weary, the lonely, the hungry for food.

You might say I was a female St. Francis,


extending my hands in a Christ-like pose,

the very vines of Buddha climbing my frame.


You might say it is I who was the wandering

Jew, a victim of my own desires. And yet,


there was purpose and gain, such

as we mortals measure them.


I laughed, didn’t I? I danced in the kitchen,

even as the shift change brought in


another drifter. Even as you roll your eyes,

I loved them all, every last one.

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