Author: Rhonda Rosenheck
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That Woman by Rhonda Rosenheck
(A Sestina) The bed, visible through the legs of adults and a child circledround, looks crisp and taut, as if there is no womanbeneath its sheets sending to a stanchion monitor signalsthat measure life. Breathing? Check. BP? Eh. Heartbeat? Slow.Sitting across the room, on vigil at another bed, I can seeonly the child’s silky brown…
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The Conifers by Rhonda Rosenheck
(a villanelle) The conifers spoke to the deciduous treesDeep in the cool, ancient wood.“Wish,” they whispered, “they were a gentler species.” Honey locusts and maples nodded their leaves,Mulberries and oaks, as well, understood.The conifers spoke to the deciduous trees:“Shall nature stand by as they do as they please?”“We know,” wept the Willow sisters, both so…
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Mary by Rhonda Rosenheck
(a pantoum) Mary dug through her sundae, unearthing sweet bits,blind to oblique police-woman glances. Indifferent— archeological zeal? Blood, where her right hand rakedher captor’s corpse.Blind to oblique police-woman glances. Indifferent to fluid crusting red to brown to black, fromher captor’s corpse,drying, as she slaked her thirst and ate her first meal.Fluid, crusting red to brown…