Never Met-a-Four, They’re All Tens

That sunlit day,

when she was crowned

Miss Information

and paraded

as a matter of fact

through the streets

and on your television

did you wonder at her lies,

seductively kissed

from those gorgeous red

and unnaturally plump lips,

or were you too busy

wondering about wandering

across her hips instead?

I am a snowflake

I am a snowflake

formed and reformed

by the chill shrill

of angry lock-step

declarations of hate

belched out

in 140 characters

or less.


I am a snowflake

yearning to melt

into liquid poured

down thirsty throats,

rain in the desert,

or an ocean teaming,

still, with life and joy

and hope.

Second Home

Our second home is

this second-hand love,

our matching failures,

the lingering aroma

of struggle and divorce.

The costs are high,

in dollars and children

lost in the shuffle.

But it’s shelter, still,

for me, for him,

for the second-hand dogs

(because how could we

do anything but rescue?).

There’s no ocean view

or peeks of mountains,

only us, together,

feeding the birds

and unpacking our bags.


For John, on our 9th “gave him my number”-versary. <3

Rough weather

I think it was that day I caught you laughing
in the corner of my eye as I punched angrily
at the heavy bag, unleashing my fury into
something safe, something intentional.
You, arms crossed, leaning and amused
by my clumsiness and bulk attempts
to grow muscle, to dump the dumps,
to gather strength for a storm I didn’t yet expect.
(Although I think now I must have smelled it in the wind.)
It was a light-ening strike, the crackle of it
shooting through my muscles and bones,
setting my teeth and soul on edge.
Yes, I’m certain now – I still feel the shock –
that was the day our bridge caught fire,
though it would smolder yet awhile before
bursting into flames for all to see.


Oh my ex, oh

my exoskeleton,

I owe it to you

who untrue showed

me the cracks but

if you’d had my back

jack if you’d only

had my back I’d still

believe in safety

unsafely dismissing

not even missing

my shell I’d be

unaware of hell.

Prompt: betrayal


I want to say that if I fall

and I expect someday I shall

when you see me crash and burn

take my wings and take your turn


that paper tiger has no roar

face your fear and say “No more”

take up the torch I left for you

I hope you soar because I flew


The prompt this week was pieces, or peace.




we serve

our hearts

in pieces,

potluck style,

tasty dishes

for life’s buffet.




if it’s true,

that thing about

cracks being how

the light gets in,

well then I’m

a supernova

man, I’m bright

from all that light

I let in when

I broke




Soon we’ll be done

you and I and the rest,

resolved at last, long last

to ash on the tongues

of creatures with less

at stake, less to prove

but more sense and senses,

and the rivers and the trees

won’t notice that we’ve gone

because they have always

danced heedlessly along

and they’ll twirl and leap

magnificently still

around the fish and the foxes

that we finally left in peace.


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