Diane Furtney Poems

In memory of my sister, a nonsmoker who died young of lung
cancer, and to a friend who mentioned, after her father's
accident, 'I hate it, death. Everything's over, you just stop.
It's as if you never lived.'
...

"With enough chips, everything's going to be aware of us:
the door knobs, the stove, probably the chairs at the coffee shop..."
—A friend complaining in 2012 about excesses of the cyber age
...

"Settlements away from Earth: I'm not sure the human race
has the right to propagate itself that far. We might not
deserve to go on."
...

Something happened on a low,
rounded rock in a galaxy that tows

and pushes in the Local Group—-something
...

To myself, wondering whether it wouldn't be better to avoid
more sibling encounters—-just stop this sorry history, these
cross-purposes, this acrimony
...