“The Gift” by Li-Young Lee To pull the metal splinter from my palm my father recited a story in a low voice. [Read more . . .] “Those Winter Sundays” by Robert Hayden Sundays too my father got up early and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold [Read more . . .] “In Dreams” by Kim Addonizio After eighteen years there’s no real grief left for the man who was my father. [Read more . . .] Read more →