Category Archives: Flick, Sherrie

Little Dog

by Sherrie Flick

Ten years, the stubby stone candle holders are a clock on our kitchen tabletop. The little dog running laps at our feet, the second hand. Our chairs scrape. We pull them back, scoot them in. Flick a match, spark the wicks, and the wispy wax of all the years past becomes a hazy measurement of us. (more…)