VQR Vault

I was a child. That was no day of regret.My mother didn’t reprimand me.Her gray-green eyes, at lunch,seemed saddened scanning the Monterey coast,its churned-up whitecaps surging beyond our window,the sea lions’ melancholy barks shuddering highe [...]

All around her, we sounded melons, practicedat hearing what we couldn’t see, pretending notto notice when she stopped at the stall where the Amish displayed their loaves of zucchini and pumpkin bread,hand-thick oatmeal cookies, pecan pies—all wr [...]