Poetry by Linda Harris Dolan

one year after dad died.            

i sat with uncle billy on his front porch.
dusk. i was looking down
at the patch of cows in the corner.

i’d seen dr. bergin.
and dr. bergin
                       had answered.
            if we had known—
            if we had known—
            we could have tried—
            we could have tried—

i was all thistles.
i was rocky fields you couldn’t near
make a living on. i was the barn
burning in the fall. i was the field
and the team of horses and granddad
crawling on top the grain driver
just to make it home. i was the auction
on the old brick house with the dairy
and the hog shed with the red roof.
i was the night in CCU, waiting out—
i was the girl with her dad with their doctor
on the day in the spring and the talk
of a surgery.

and when i told billy what dr. bergin said—

            we looked at the fields. we talked after dark.


Linda Harris Dolan is a poet and freelance editor. She holds an M.A. in English & American Literature from NYU, where she’s currently getting an M.F.A in poetry. She’s taught writing at The King’s College and NYU. Linda's work appears or is forthcoming in Roanoke Review and The Underground. She is Poetry Editor for Washington Square Review.