Recovery

Hilda Raz
From: Divine Honors Wesleyan University Press, 1997

The fingers of the rain are tapping again.
I send out my heart's drum.
Blood stripe on the feathered tulip dissolves into
wet.
All night a low thrumming.

Up, up the two-toned hosta
green from sopped earth.
Along your bruised ribs, cream bells.

Blogs

Keeping The “Happy” In Happy Holidays! [Webinar]
by OncoLink Editorial Team
November 11, 2013

From the National Cancer Institute