Authors /
Gary Fincke
The exact likeness of grief
Swinging a pitching wedge, my father loftsSeven golf balls over my mother’s grave.To spare the grass, he hits from the shoulder,...
The first word
(The Amharas of Ethiopia name their babies the first word spoken by the mother after she gives birth.)...
A communion of tools
Each time I visit, my father gives meThe things that are sold from weekend driveways—A painting, old golf clubs, assorted books.Before it’s too late, he says, repeating...
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