May 1, 2015

If I were to push you from my mind,

How far would you fall?

Would you crash?

Shatter into a million pieces,

Or would you land on the ledge

Just outside my consciousness

Where you will wait

Before you slowly begin your climb

Back inside.


The house is full. When it sleeps, each bed is occupied and the outbuilding is filled.

In the morning, when the sun is not yet fully risen in the sky, voices echo and bounce from all corners.

Silence ripples through doors, words wrap themselves around edges and through floorboards which creak as bodies pass over them, up them.

Walls sigh, as they expand to allow bodies to occupy their space.


You’re not coming, and it hurts my heart

Missing you has turned into a dull ache

Throbbing, ever present, in the back of my wanting

Trying not to miss you is like trying not to breathe

I can trick myself for a moment,

But only until panic catches in my throat and

I breathe in your memory in huge,

desperate gulps.

My Grandmother’s Sweater

I’ve lost my sweaters
They held me close as I wept
Buried my face in their depths
When my grandmother passed
They held her too
Shielded her from the bitterness that winter can bring
Wrapped her in their fabrics and heated her
Warmed her creativity
Arms swaddled, her hand moved, penned words,
Poems, prose
I wrote in you too,
Took comfort from you
I’ll miss you
But will always have the echo of you in my mind
Warm fabrics, weathered wool
You held me, you held mine
Now, I’ll let you go


A girl walks

Along wet city streets

Heels click click click

On pavement

She runs her hand

Along stone walls

A finger snags

Flesh is torn

She resumes her walk

Blood drip drip drips

On crooked sidewalk

The only proof

She was there

Soon to be

Washed away

By drop drop drops

Of pouring rain.