Day: June 14, 2026

The End

Falling

My hair

        My jeweled name.

                           My breath leaves me in a hurry.
To life I’m more of a situationship.


Leaves leaving lavishly,
Their crispy crunch
Preserving the forest floor.


In the distance,
Monsters with lanterns seeking fugitive wrongdoers.

Silhouettes of maples shimmer
Breeze divine – breath of God.


          Will you enter through the vine choked garden gate,
      Or through the scar in the fence on Cemetery Lane?


I fall through maps of treasure.
Silk sky caresses me the whole way down.



Space envelopes me,
Soft and lax.

When I land
There will be fireworks of gold and blue.



Crusty Tuesdays

Crusty Tuesdays stick flyers about a month for sale in my old, chipped mailbox. I need a deal. Math has been chomping in my periphery. I threaten him with my angry blood. Rage washes over the periwinkle, petrified plane. Take my hands. Sew them to the monster you keep chained in your office behind the ad soaked computer monitor that logs your wasted time. I feel I am not real, which makes me true and evanescent. I’d like to buy a month. September, perhaps, savory and amber. Or July, polished until it gleams. But my funds cannot be found. Money hears my name and prances off to another pretend person.

Sparking Joy

Clotted stars jam space up, sweet and sticky as it is. The blackness of the universe is a front for the rainbows running rampant beneath our neat reality. I threw out Jupiter because he didn’t “spark joy.” My husband charging a car battery, sparks sparkling around his hands like sycophants. His hands build my name, a ship that gnaws at the unending sea, our home of seashells and topaz. At the end of time he pushes my wheelchair through fields of angry poppies, the stars above us bickering about who gets to immolate the screaming earth.