Vol. I · No. 24 · The Weekly Issue · From Key West to the Panhandle
The FloridianReporting, fiction, criticism, poetry, and cartoons — from the peninsula
Poetry · Poem
Twelve lines, one long apology, one ceiling fan still spinning.
Dear house on Fifty-Fourth,
I am sorry about the paint.
I am sorry about the tree,
which was, in the end,
not mine to promise.
I am sorry about the woman
who bought you next,
who does not, I think,
know your name.
The ceiling fan in the back bedroom
is still spinning.
I can hear it from here.
I hope you can, too.
Poem
A short poem on kitchens, ceiling fans, and afternoon forecasts.
Poem
A short poem for the hour that is not quite an hour.
Poem
A brief meditation on the closing of evening over Boca Ciega Bay.
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