Sue Dawes Buried in Meaning I take her hand: paper-thin skin, mushrooming with liver-spots.  The last few years have brought drought to her words, her movements wooden, constricted by hoists and straps.  My name is as hard to catch as falling acorns. The seasons pass, but I’m not ready to let go. Even when the rain darkens … Continue reading Sue Dawes, Buried in Meaning