Category: Poetry

She sees her reflection in the television he watches, in the wine bottle on the table in front of her, in the glass in her hand. His words from this morning echo in her head, drown out the sound of helmets clashing and announcers calling plays. Tears well up in her eyes, as she imagines …

This little boy, never really had a chance. Never shown what love was, never had a place. Silent, always at a loss for words. Seeking attention, because something was better than nothing. Punishment, better than distance. Warmth of pain lasting until he fell asleep, like a teddy bear he could hug. Fighting for affection but …

A couple of shakes to spread the coolness of the ice cubes evenly around, there is just something about it. The clean refreshing sweetness, soy milk satisfying guilt and caffeine meeting needs. Imagining a small percentage of money spent, making it’s way to the small Indian province that the tea come from. Like mother’s breast …

She met me on the street, all smiles and flipping hair, she held her backpack in one hand a cigarette in the other, they both fell to the ground as she threw her hands around my neck. I pulled her close, her curves pushing tight against me, my arms tight around her waist as our …

I woke up this morning, still at odds   with myself. Went through the routine of a work day. Until I got to the stop light. My mind somewhere else, I was stopped, across the line, in the     center of the intersection. How did I ended up here;     was it by chance? did I do it …

The taste of it, like cigarettes and tears. Before the heat from his embrace had left her body, before the taste of his lips had faded from her mouth, he was gone from view. She ached for his presence before she realized that he was really gone, and though she said no more tears would …

We spent our time together building a tomb, but when it was ready, you were gone. So, I filled it with the ashes of the words I had written for you. I still lay down flowers, whenever I pass by, and light a candle when the time is right. But, I don’t make it by …

I gave the stranger a cigarette. “That was generous of you” “I just hastened a man’s death” I made myself an integral part of some disease set on killing him, this stranger. Reading National Geographic to learn about   the world. A welfare check, just so I know my place. Brushed teeth, cleaning behind the door …

She cries at my words, dreams of what once was and chases God’s poltergeist. I smile at her, hand moving hair from face and say with a look what words fail to. The adventure is in the journey, destination means there is an end and I refuse to be missed when the moments can still …

I bear witness to the murder of our youth, acts born of hatred which in turn are born of fear. The deaths of children afraid to accept who they are because elements within our culture tell them they are “less than” and “evil”, words taking their hearts as surely as their own hands take their …