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Day 4: NaPoWriMo 2021
The Local Shop The wife of the local newsagentkeeps her white hair under a scarf.She’s always in the background,in an office with dark stained air, sitting at a desk, calculator at hand,holding a ledger in her left hand.Her words run along her husband’sspine. On a straight and narrow line. He says he runs the shop,…
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Day 3 NaPoWriMo 2021
I.When Lemons Talk A lemon’s voice is a sharp bristled spark.A punch. A fierce argument. Gives yourtongue the hump. Lemon, cold enough to quench August.Lemon, hot enough to cure throaty colds. It puckers. Pulls. It’s a thin lipped laugh,and steals the words from your mouth.It’ll do all the talking, if any’s needed. II. When Lemons…
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Day 2 NaPoWriMo 2021
I.Across the Sea At the end of the pieris a bell that looks likea silver charm. Wind teases the clapper,and its tone leavesmy ears with wingsacross the waves. It passes through light,and travels. I will dothe same, one day. II.These Old Roads Left or rightor straight on,beyond the bridgeor back behind andover Furnace Ridge,it matters…
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Day 1 NoPoWriMo 2021
Poetic Asides Day 1: Introduction to Casual Lapses I.I don’t know where time’s gone.It’s 8-years since we knocked downthe dining room wall. Opened upthe kitchen. Made it all modernwith granite and stainless steel. Replaced the carpets with wood.Believe it or not, I sneeze less. Eight years.Can’t really account for each day,except for when the dog…
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dVerse Laundry
Laundry Day Hand into his pocket, pulled it inside out, and she found the note she’d written him. One small jarof peanut butter,please,to replace the oneyou emptied – This is just to say it’s a pity that youdidn’t tell me,becausemy toast was justa smear of jam. Love you more than William Carlos Williamsloves his plums. for…
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dVerse Blossoms
March 29: A firestarter returns us spring. I breathe the air. I breathe the sky. It’s a cherry blossom’s wild sunset dance out of winter. A burner against April’s pale blue. A garland for the clouds. The sky is leaking warmth and bees, and this worn soul wants to live again. ruby throated springfrom powdered…
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for Sunday Whirl #496
The Suppression of Green She’s wading too deep in gluey,sucking cold. In a biting winterstreams leached clear by dirt, ordisguised as spring water racingunder the green of cress leaves. Green is hope, she believes, and on this bright bleached day, shesees shadows blanket truth, goodand evil, and souls snagged onfish-hooked lines, waiting, baited for heaven’s shame,…
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Overlooked Margins
Small Flies and Other Wings There in the overlookedmargins of the windowsill, unpaired wings and websof grey lace and dust aredefused by the sun’s stare. Wings lay mutilated likesome mental disturbance, brushed by darkness andsideslipped in the wake ofa free-hand or brushed breath. They’re gathered into the wetgrasp of a cleaning cloth, and their fragments…
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for dVerse Quadrille #124
Who Knew I pull out a green shoot, hoping it’s a weed. One year, I pulled outmost of the poppy seedlings, thinking they were weeds. Opium poppies, so I am told. And there next to the weedsis a worm – tied in a knot. for dVerse Poets Quadrille #124 “knots”Photo by Bruno Figueiredo on Unsplash. Shared with @Experimentsinfc…
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dVerse’s Being Human
Being Human This being human isa glance over your shoulderto see if the pastis catching up with you. Other days, it’s a drudgerythat lingers on your handsas a stain or an odour. It’s a search for wordsin the pit of your stomachthat feel odd in your mouthwhen spoken. Sometimes, it’s when rainsmells like mould insteadof…
It's Still Life 