On Mom’s 75th Birthday
Her ghost didn’t show up
this time like other nights
after her death.
I’m sure we
would’ve played Taboo or
Guesstures, watched
her race
to the bathroom from
hard laughter.
Later, one last story:
when her shed with her kids’
and her childhood caught
fire—papers—wide-lined,
gray, filled with words
we were practicing back
then, the wind lifting
the U’s, S’s, E pluses,
S minuses—nothing
left but my sister’s
bronzed baby shoes
searing our grass, trailing
those burnt letters.
*
When not teaching at the Community College of Denver, Brian Dickson avoids driving as much as possible to connect with the quotidian and sacred around him, hang, and shoot hoops. He is also an associate editor of New Feathers Anthology. Past publications include two chapbooks, In a Heart’s Rut (HighFive press), Maybe This is How Tides Work (Finishing Line Press), one book, All Points Radiant (WordTech, Cherry Grove Editions), and various journals. He has a forthcoming chapbook from Finishing Line Press, A Child’s Sketch of the Afterlife, arriving later in 2025. You can find him on Instragram @brihamwrites.
