The Common Good

Fredrick Zydek

Articles by Fredrick Zydek

Dear Gail: Each day I pray the muses

will bring me tasty nouns and surprising verbs,

but pain and death keep dancing through

my dreams wearing garments of grief.


My father liked to dance alone.

Late at night, when he was sure

the rest of the house was sleeping,

he would turn on the old Philco

and dance with the broom.


One Summer,