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Vern Rutsala

Winter 1987

Father Fear

By Vern Rutsala

He is in the house now—you hear him on the stairs or scraping heavy thingsacross the cellar floor. He was that tap at the window,that scratching on your pillow. He […]

Winter 1987

Raisins

By Vern Rutsala

Our pettiness is endless.Like the ancient raisin I noticed ground into the softwood on the landing, and I remembered telling you tostop scattering raisins all over the house. That was […]