When she came home from church,
she thought he was standing in the corner
between the bandsaw and orbital sander,
until she saw the rope, the kicked-out stool,
daughters pinned to both sides of his shirt,
and guessed that in his confusion and haste,
he didn’t have time to find a picture of her.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 17, Issue 2.
Michael Albright has published poems in various journals, including Tar River Poetry, A Narrow Fellow, Pembroke Magazine, Rust + Moth, Blast Furnace, Uppagus, and others. He lives on a windy hilltop near Greensburg, PA. with his Lori and an every changing array of children and other animals.
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