You were there, not conscious but in body, when they draped you, intubated and hooked you to a ventilator ...
I am from an Irish Clan’s love,
strong as bedrock, deep as ocean. I am from a surgeon's scalpel ...
Garden gargoyle, rumpled of brow, drowsy of eye, pointy of ear, peeks at me as I work the earth ...
We’d arrived at the ER just after midnight, January 5, 2016—ironically, Mom’s eighty-first birthday.
Our neighborhood has a sidewalk chalk artist, and I think she’s a girl. Twelve, maybe thirteen ...
I’ve had a headache for thirty days. OK, I’m lying. It’s closer to sixty, but sixty days sounds terribly long.
Ann Kathryn Kelly reads her essay “Angie” for the Unlatched Open Mic Podcast, produced in London.
Ann Kathryn Kelly reads her essay “The Pull” for the Unlatched Open Mic Podcast, produced in London.
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