You noticed the times I yelled at you to eat your veggies.

You noticed the time I didn't allow you to go out with your friends.

And you noticed the time I was mad at you for not obeying me.

But little one..

You didn't notice me checking up on you at night to see if you're safe.

You didn't notice the pain in my eyes when I saw you ill.

And you most definitely didn't notice how it broke me to not have a conversation with you..

It's because I love you that I have to keep checking you. I just want you to be the best my little one.

this is how i hold onto you:

ankle socks, a baseball cap,

your ball state crewneck draped

over my skin so that i am a ghost

of you. i look in the mirror

and see pockets, seams

fraying, edges stitched inside-out

because i've never patched exit wounds

in my gums, i've never bound

my body without a handyman's help. 

the new cotton doesn't hold me

like you did. it stuffs my scars

but stifles sparks. i felt more comfortable

dressed in static. i miss

the electricity between us,

days spent waiting to be ironed

so we could rid ourselves of our wrinkles

and sort the good days from the bad

like bath towels from rags. i wish

we could love like we do laundry,

forgive, rinse, and repeat. i wish

the thumps of the washer were your heartbeat.

A house stands upon a shady hill,

As night fell, the wind was still.

An eerie glow from the stars and moon,

Throughout the yard, debris was strewn.

How long it’s stood empty, I cannot say,

Once bright, I’m sure, now pale and gray.

Strange noises wreaked havoc with my mind,

As I witnessed a figure behind a blind.

That’s crazy, I whispered, there’s no one there,

This vacant shell in complete disrepair.

When a pale apparition stared down at me,

From an upstairs window behind a tall oak tree.

Clad in white with long hair and a solemn face,

Silently imploring, wanting out of this place.

Were my eyes playing tricks along with my ears?

Struggling with myself to confront my fears.

Scary movies foreshadow this cannot end well,

Myriad secrets the dead can—and do—tell.

Not wanting the same fate as the ghost I saw,

Yet curiosity was my fatal flaw.

I slowly approached and rang the doorbell,

Fearing the clamor was my own death knell?

The sound of footsteps behind the door,

A turning knob chilled me to the core.

But I couldn’t make myself turn and leave,

How apropos on this All Hallows’ Eve.

I watched the ravenous pigs viciously attack the body of my dearly departed husband. It only took about eight minutes for the pigs, who hadn’t eaten in four days, to completely polish off his entire two hundred pound body, even the bones!

I had used a large sledge hammer to pound his head into bloody pieces after I crept up to him in our barn. I knew I had to drag him out before there was too much blood soaking into the hay. I didn’t really have it well planned but I had had enough of his abuse. We lived way out in the country with no witnesses to the black eyes and cut lips that I suffered at his hands. The emotional indignities that he heaped upon my suffering soul were even worse. “You stupid bitch!” he screamed, “You’re good for nothing. You don’t even have my dinner ready!”

I thought I would have to remove bits of his body from the pig pen but the pigs left no traces of their carnage. I took a rake and stirred up the muck just to make sure.

No one seemed to miss him much. I certainly didn’t. I just went about my business of raising pigs, slaughtering them and taking them to market. When the other farmers asked where Buster was, I just said, “That pig, he ran off with another woman and I haven’t seen him since!”

I have to admit that I had second thoughts about the way I disposed of him. I probably should have just ground him up and sold his meat at the farmers’ market. They say that human meat tastes just like pork!

Be

brave today

through unsteady knees

and whispering of breath

channel courage from deep within

it does inhabit every living being

hidden in the spirit’s recesses

call it and know

just how strong

you really

are.

I shovel your love in grave at my feet,

hiding behind your bedroom eyes,

sewer seeking lowest level in lies.

I hang by my neck from a rope,

swinging toward you, then swing back,

always yearning for your visits late

at night, when you smell of sex.

Tossing my insides out, leaving

my mind in utter disarray as I moan

please stay, please go, show me mercy,

revisiting same old crippled highway.

Love me in your heat, defend me

from your cheat, mangy dog in heat,

ferry me to heaven – endless delusion

until great divide – kiss of death.

Fire is a sound

an emission of strangest light

and thus, to and for, it sways

would you deny its seductive nature

a ferocity of cunning power

that render even the most robust cavaliers absurd

you've seen nothing if you've not seen a fire

rolling over the ceiling, licking the air

a victim holds his breath; a few brave sould beat it

it crawls beneath the door, turning everything to dust

breathing darkest vapors, swift in maneuver

there's not victory here, it gets ahead

but out there are men and women of uniform

individuals who call to fire, chasing what we all avoid

why then don't we hold them as our heroes and heroines