William L. Alton was born November 5, 1969 and started writing in the Eighties while incarcerated in a psychiatric prison. Since then his work has appeared in Main Channel Voices, World Audience and Breadcrumb Scabs among others. In 2010, he was nominated for a Pushcart Prize. He has published one book titled Heroes of Silence.

He earned both his BA and MFA in Creative Writing from Pacific University in Forest Grove, Oregon where he continues to live. You can find him at williamlalton.com.

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TWO POEMS
        William L. Alton

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DIRTY HANDS

Your hands, dirty from the garden.
I imagine them at my throat
when we make love.

You put your fingers
on my lips and I taste
lilac and lupine, the earthworm’s
slick skin.

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DREAMS AND MEMORIES

I whispered her name in my sleep.
I know this because I was dreaming
of her face when it happened.
She says I woke her in the middle
of the night, kicking and talking.
Where’s the baby? I asked.
I don’t know what she’s talking about.
The only baby I know anything about
died twenty-five years ago. I still mourn
her on the Day of the Dead with a little candle
and a lock of her hair. What was her name? she asks.
Cricket. The look on her face is typical.
Shock. Grief. Fear. How do you talk
about a dead child without tears?

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