Prompt 6 – A mystery poem   Where was I?   I was running my cold frosty breath still in front of me, bark breaking leaves rustling under fast feet, my heart races too I focus forward never looking back, the sweat running as hard…

Sara shed no tears as she stepped around the body slumped in the rolling chair to pull the knife buried deep out of the head and rinse it in water so hot it dropped from her hands before scrubbing vigorously with a heavy-duty scrubbing sponge…

Answer the phone when they call. Take the time to say I love you too. Let them hold on a little longer when they hug you. Because one day… Laugh at their lame jokes. Listen when they tell the same story for the hundredth time….

To put it together it has to come apart. Material laid out, right sides together, pattern pieces cut perfectly.   Pins poke holes and pieces fit onto the material, strategically saving as much material as possible for the next craft.   Cut, cut. Unpin and…

7am Poem 5. Crimes, etc… (a four stanza tanka plus one syllable) Your crime was lying. Mine was believing in you. Both more sins than crimes if I believed sins exist. If I believed in an us. Your crime was vodka. Mine was hiding from…

Amelita came to me in a dream. She was going to move to Oahu. She said she could drive those super-highways. I thought it was a risky move.   She lost everything in the fire. Like so many others I loved. Just the clothes on…

Prettiness is pain. Beautifying is brutality. The smile a rictus of roiling dissatisfaction with one’s own end result.    

Deep in the night I heard it ring The doorbell, soft and quiet. A few nights later I heard it again Insistent, strident. The next time I went to the door Peeped through the eyehole At a dark empty landing. Yet again when I heard…

Perfectly Manicured nails Swipe a path on the dash   In her shitty green  Weather-worn  stick shift  She taught herself to drive   Collecting dust that she discards Neatly and primly With a golden smile ‘cause she cares for all things That are hers  …

shame is a spotlight watching with hungry eyes as you drink coffee from a seashell saying it tastes like your past lover her laughter sweet as it touches your tongue jane doe smells like every september but I am every august just one month shy…