Sore Places

July 13, 2012 § 3 Comments

riding past Ramsdell Rd.
the post office parking lot
with rows of white beetle trucks
idle wait to trundle their bundles.
 
missed my usual whisking chariot
too bruised by the night thus
over-snoozed the button
 
the builder has me up late
stacking ohs and ahs
over my sore places

Missing Thing

May 17, 2012 § 4 Comments

Kind of see
some
thing missing

some thing seen
some
missing thing

saw and un-
seen
missing thing

For He Whose I Am

March 28, 2012 § 2 Comments

The bus had been 19 hours and 12 minutes of wasted time.

“What were you thinking?”
“I don’t know. I obviously wasn’t thinking, judging by your reaction.”
“Go home.”
“Okay.”

She was now seated on the bench at the bus station, under the pretense of waiting for the next bus. In her hands, she held the pocket watch.

“That one.”
“This one? Miss, this one is an expensive watch.”
“I know.”
“Ok. Cash or charge?”
“Is it extra to engrave?”
“No, Miss. It’s complimentary. I will get you a sheet of paper.”

For he whose I am.

Counting her money again, she hesitated from buying a ticket. Why did she think he would come and stop her? Just because she came so far? Held back this long, her tears were heavy, overripe and finally fell like devastating bombs on the dry skin of her hands.

Feeling better after her cry, she stood up with purpose to buy her ticket and return home. She would write the whole thing off as an experience, an adventure, and fodder for her work. Maybe she would even get a book out of it…

“Violet!” Then, he was there.

Dream I

March 17, 2012 § 3 Comments

She would run from the house, lifting her rough skirts to increase her speed. To get there. The shouts of the sisters would echo, but she would ignore them and laugh, casting her eyes up to a blue sky. The sound of the tall grasses played drums on her tall boots. She would get there, she would. Defying all the rules, she would make it to the place, the illusion he had bloomed in her earthen mind. She would search the forest, wondering if it was all a Victorian fairytale, had she burned her bridges in a free fall for no reason, no promise.

But in her dream, he was there. His clear eyes darted to the side and she saw the carvings. And then he was gone again. She felt with her finger tips and the wood still hummed and burned with life. She read it like a map and was off.

A new course charted.

So She Says II: A List

March 15, 2012 § 2 Comments

Let me get you started:

Good mother, wife and friend.

Gifted writer.

Believer in fairies and fate and God.

Dreamer who hasn’t lost her faith in love.

I Am My Only

January 28, 2012 § 5 Comments

I
Am
My own
Willing lab
best yet specimen
Once you were a variable

Yes Times

January 26, 2012 § 4 Comments

one frightened

                              girl I be

leave your mark

all over me

Where Am I?

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