by Mary McKSchmidt | Dec 22, 2025 | Poetry, 2025
He says, “I don’t like to cook,but I do like to eat” and I suspect he remembersthat first Thanksgiving when I plunged the chef knife,a wedding gift, into the side of the unbaked turkey searching for the hole in which to stuff the...
by Mary McKSchmidt | Dec 8, 2025 | Uncategorized, 2025, Poetry
he decided to build a moataround his life, ignoringmy pleas for forgiveness for whatever I did to offend, refusing even a drawbridgefor conversation, choosingto be estrangedforeverand for years I lay awake,my pillow a whipping postfor my imperfect self,knowing I...
by Mary McKSchmidt | Nov 11, 2025 | 2025, Poetry
Not me I told myself defiantly and then mailed the check for property taxes only to have it returned for lack of a signature and then typed laminated and taped the wrong WIFI password on the frig the night of her party confusing everyone and then sailed past our...
by Mary McKSchmidt | Oct 27, 2025 | 2025, Poetry
I still detect a whiff of you in the gold and brown recliner, the tweed chair to be hauled to a thrift shop tomorrow where a stranger’s scent will replace yours. It took twenty-four years of allergy shots to restore my sense of smell and today,...
by Mary McKSchmidt | Oct 13, 2025 | 2025, Poetry
What you may not know about Billy Martinis that in January of 1972, the same year he took the Detroit Tigers to their first American League East Championship,he met a young woman sports editoron a Tiger preseason press tour. It was the first time a...
by Mary McKSchmidt | Sep 1, 2025 | 2025, Poetry
This curious song sung by a frog appeared mysteriously, a do-loop in the brain that would not disappear shortly after her death. It was not “Oh what a beautiful morning,”“Take me out to the ball game,”“Let’s go fly a kite” or any of the songs we used to sing every...
