Closets Twelve TW for incest/childhood sexual assault I’ve never been one to hide my queerness. Nor my heathen faith I understand the safety many find within closets How hiding themselves away from the world prevents injury, Wrapping up in the comfort of conformity I, too,…

depression’s daughter, i should not be surprised at what you find worth keeping: oranges, toilet paper, salt shakers, mail, important but unopened, a few hundred sets of stale oyster crackers– neat rows near but not touching photos of your children when they were children, the…

White blends with black Lines like flags atop the sea Eyes peek in a stare The brush dances, twists and curves A seamless burst of beauty  

I once hid in a closet to scare my sister She screamed so loud it sounded like a whisper It was fun to be mean She jumped like a bean And hit her head so hard it became a blister    

Closets People tell me stories. Mostly their own. How her beloved came out as trans, and how she left him her.  And how s/he wants to be friends, and how she can’t. How her husband was a serial cheat unfaithful with her best friend. How…

Young imaginations conjure creatures into closets.   Fire breathing dragons, warlocks, witches, magicians, unicorns and even the boogy man have done hard time in small closets across the world!   Yet, as we age and our closets become smaller as we become larger, our nightmares…

Hour Twelve !!!!! What Garbage is; and isn’t Garbage is litter, deadwood, rubbish, and trash. It’s stinky, rotten, mushy, and junk. Garbage is scraps of debris, refuse, and waste. It isn’t pleasant, aromatic or useful. It can’t be recycled, reused, or fixed up. It’s messy,…

Three windows above my desk frame the trees outside — green portrait of limbs and leaves.   I scrubbed my desk last night so today I could write with a cleared head.   Twelve hours blazed past to now, my eyes blurred and red, grateful…

We all have closets, deep within our souls, places dark and scary and cluttered. Our monsters are kept there, our dreams sometimes, though I hope not. My fears lurk there, hell, they breed there! Clustering among the smelly sneakers and old socks I left there…

My closet is full of memories through out my life, and some of my dad’s. He didn’t want to believe his stuff had to be sold so I hold the last of it for him. At the assisted living, he doesn’t have a closet, just…