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Old Women
They are relics now, standing side by side in crumpled parchment skin, flesh-colored stockings, sleeves and masks left too long in the fold pile slightly damp and scented of lavender, sunshine and mildew…
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Mother Whore and the Monsters on the Hill
…they are children playing dress-up in the whore mother’s clothes. Dirt track spreads her legs and welcomes everybody in, tries to make her face a little prettier…
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UnderDog Bikes in Roanoke, VA
A couple weeks ago, my husband and I took Thing One (so named because he arrived on the scene two minutes before his brother, Thing Two, and I don’t use their real names on here) up to Roanoke, VA for a quick overnight trip. It can be tough to find things to do with Thing…
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Waiting
Old friend, long lost left behind All the ugly things you never wanted are right here, in the palm of my hand waiting to be given back to you.
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Watching the Sheep
I asked him, where are the bullets kept? all dolled up in my Sunday best bedroom shoes and a battered old nightshirt He looked at me, puzzled they’d be in the bedside table, I guess if we kept bullets, or a gun in the house. So I went about my daily life painted my nails…
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Spring
If the fear doesn’t get me the winter will, freeze me out of myself until I crack and drown below the surface Each turn of the page pulls me closer A spiral drawn in shades of black and grey So for now I’ll sit and watch the rain, watch the world come back to green…
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Optimist
I’ve never been an optimist but I was hopeful once. Now I sit and watch the world, gather clues and tuck them in my pockets so later, when I need to I can pull them out, examine them and make the way make sense.
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Houses
All along the back roads in Virginia (and elsewhere too, the scenery a patchwork quilt stitching states together, miles of wood and pasture gingham strips in greens and browns) the houses rise up from the ground, planted years ago, crops forgotten in the avalanche of mega malls and mini marts, looking like the women, old…
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Epilogue
Give me something to look forward to, she said- The crease of your palm as your hand curves around the back of my neck, or the stillness that crowds your words when you whisper something no one else can know Let me be the one to taste the endorphins and whiskey in your voice When you…
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Snakes
There is a house full of snakes waiting to devour us fangs slick with the ejaculate of televangelists and politicians, bellies fat with power and the scrawny limbs of dying children, sacrificed for the greater good, gently laid to rest before an altar draped in patriotic cloth and the stench of soggy dollar bills wet…
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April Fox 