Poem 2

Chapter 2: The Call


They’d brought a woman to the highest tower and we’d gathered to watch like it was a show.

They’d said she was the heir and exile, the last of the bloodline with claim to the throne.


Truth be told

This was the third woman exiled as the last heir

The third iteration of a lost daughter found.

They neglect to mention that there had been two daughters – sisters –

Who’d escaped that night.



To speak of her is to conjure her again

To make her vulnerable.

Let her be forgotten and live.


The mage stands hooded, calm.

The orator rallies the crowd with cries of “Our King!” “His Omnipotence!”

The woman trembles.

Amidst the fanfare and before the executioner can slip the noose around her neck

She leaps.

Poem 1

Chapter 1

Ordinary World



Thin woods

Dirt road skirting forest

Sisters washing laundry in the river

“Do you ever wish some prince would just come whisk you away?”


Never, never.

Squeeze water from a dirty skirt

Both up to our knees in current

A little too cold, I shiver



“Never?” Shocked.

“We’ll have no princes.”

Silent girl doing washing with me. Silent, not complicit in my treason.

The mage is our only King.


“Which of the boys in town do you fancy?”


I used to be an old hat on WordPress, but it’s been a while. I hail from the Pacific Northwest and write fiction, creative nonfiction, and occasionally poetry. My favorite animals are road runners and snails because of their (polar opposite) charismas. My day job involves working closely with community college students as an academic success coach.


I’m here to do the half-marathon. I’ve got a project in mind that I’ve been meaning to get started on, so this will hopefully light a fire under me.

– A