Keith Hoerner

Her husband was fourth-generation Army. After three tours in Afghanistan, it was ‘three strikes, you’re out.’ A cluster bomb hit dead overhead of the mess—where he ate his final meal of ham ‘n’ beans. A food fight of bad jokes exploded in her head. That’s when the thought dawned on her. Cathy ran to the […]

In a vacuumed slice of silence, under the stillness of night’s gossamer veil, I rouse her. She takes my hand, as I guide her to the base of our garden’s Weeping Willow. To cry, perhaps… Early morning darkness gives way to the ether of a reddening sky. I embrace her; there are—no more words. We