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Susan Imhof



My father had no patience with his mother, even after she stopped drinking, helpless and shrunken in her cane porch chair. After her death he wouldn't talk about her, and turned on my mother who explained his cruelty— which I'd never noticed— as [...]

The Limitations of Ordinary Light

Last night after leaving you I drove North up a dark highway trying not to sleep, too empty to cry. A logging truck passed, going eighty- then, up ahead, fireworks on the road, in the sky, flames dancing like tigers, logs suspended in flight, trees [...]