I leave a trail of dots in the bathroom as i look for a sanitary napkin in the shelf. Later that day, my son asks me soothingly what colour is the blood of ants. I couldn’t tell. I didn’t know if squeezed out of them, …

Gazing up up at the grains above me I know it’s crop just like they bring to The elevator Delicious grains My favorite ones When the truck’s come We’d put our hands out When they opened the sluice gate To the back of the truck…

If I had gone with you… I think our lives would be very different now Sans stretch marks, C-section scars, and broken bones But I wanted to make sure you knew What you wanted Maybe that was stupid Maybe I was scared Maybe you seemed…

the giant space between me and veganism is cheese hard or soft creamy or funky cow or goat, though I prefer a cheese whose shepherd I’ve hugged the refrigerator is organized with a veggie drawer and a fruit drawer and a cheese drawer though my…

As i sweep the rooms , water splashes around, leaving a trail. I follow it around, a dog at its tail. There are no fine bone china to be broken by bumping on to a table, i curse my good luck as i mop away…

Text Prompts G.K. Chesterton once wrote “Poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese.” Use this as a prompt to write about cheese. If you’re looking for a little extra inspiration look no further than Benjamin Garcia’s wonderful Bliss Point or What Best…

I never wandered enough through you, mostly keeping away from dryly lit lanes even under the hot summer sun,  except A couple of times when i wanted to ruin my name in your honour, in your lanes I cajoled myself to collect faded paper tickets…

  Hr. 10 Prompt 22, 2017 Picture Image: Madame Pierre Gautreau John Singer Sargent 1884 she stands rigid almost like a statue balancing herself steady and strong while looking away contradicting that strength as if hiding sheltering herself

Alarms, bells, shouting, mower loudly goes this is the stuff that wakes me up grows, bellows, down ears to toes thunder, lightning – fright’ning blood shot eyes – bright’ning screech owl screaming my dreaming waking now.   – Sandra Johnson, 6/27/21  

When the bandits left Sambisa, they left a sign for us to remember that they were here longer than we had thought. Even in Eden, it is difficult to forget that the jacket my little brother was obsessed with, was the sign left for our…