Veronica Tucker

When I first began writing the poems that would become The House as Witness , I did not know I was building a book. I thought I was simply paying attention to the place where my life unfolds. The house had become a quiet partner in my days, a structure that absorbed every season of motherhood, every shift in routine, every joy and every sorrow. I began to realize that the house was not only where my life happened, but also a presence with its own memory. It seemed to listen. It seemed to...

My daughters and son are descendants of Ann Foster, an accused Salem witch. The line runs through my husband’s paternal grandfather, a...

Reflections on “Split,” published in HEAL: Humanism Evolving through Arts and Literature There are days in medicine that change you...