This poem is taken from Stand 211, 14(3) September - November 2016.

Tina Tocco Three Poems

Marker

A farmhouse left bare.
Copper beech limbs braced with frost.
Rust wedged in the pump.
We push through thistle, crack burrs.
Graze the marker. Baby Boy.



My Johnny Doesn’t Remember

My Johnny doesn’t remember
strawberry preserves put up
for Christmas week pies
peach ice cream dashed
mellow and soft
when his tonsils had to go
or mint lemonade
pressed for hours
for a tenth birthday in June
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