Loving the Dead Helga Kidder The cardinal said, she lives between the sun and the moon, within the light of stars. Each rose petal says, she is here, opening the flower to perfection. Her voice whispering the wind, unfolding your heart. The mirror reflects her shadow behind you. Don’t grieve. You are not alone. Not in the woods or fields. Not in the city. She is turning down her bed inside you. Helga Kidder lives in the Tennessee hills with her husband and dog. She was awarded an MFA from Vermont College and am co-founder of the Chattanooga Writers Guild. Her poems have been published in Haight Ashbury Literary Journal, Poetry South, Slipstream, and in Carrying the Branch: Poets in Search of Peace anthology. Helga has three poetry books: Wild Plums, Luckier than the Stars, and Blackberry Winter.
One, Two, Three Keith Welch The first was my father, a man who skipped high school, joined the navy, sailed the world, saw no action. No fighting, anyway— whether he saw any other sort of action, I never knew.
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