beech

4 Poems by Anya Pearson

Early Memory of Writing I am diligently composing postcards. On the porch of my father’s house. Postcards that display the beauty of the island. The waterfalls in Ocho Rios. The white sand beaches in Negril. Waiting for him to come home. Patiently, at first, then anxiously. Never knowing how long he will be gone. Never