Katherine's Coffeehouse

By Katherine M. Gotthardt Last night I dreamt again you appeared, thin and limping after what I could have sworn was your final parting, last heavy sigh and whimper, all of us laying hands on your haunches, private room with wordless music, pet pictures, candles. And as always

Entering older years, I now understand how my words have become less visible.

The ladies in the senior center craft room Complain about their aging husbands: “He never this …” and “He always that …”

Some poems I've posted on Threads. Let's connect there.

A guest post by Geoff Anderson, Poet and founder of diVERSES Poetry “[T]he trouble with poetry isthat it encourages the […]

Join the celebration! I'll be reading new work at the Spilled Ink open mic Saturday, October 7, so be sure to say hello!

In light of darkness nighting the day,

For weeks, you deny you resent me, withdrawing, same as rain, lie holding its breath like heavy August air, you, […]

The intersection of poetry and my day job.

What I want to do is stop remembering the rainy morning you drove 50 miles to my house to help me find car keys I'd dropped in the trash.