You put me beneath glass to experiment–within a terrarium
that captures images, but denies my voice.
You’re scarcely aware, and only prod me when I don’t do what I am told.
Isn’t this what you wanted for me, though? Or was it for yourself?
This gear-work flashes in minute movements that mimic answers to your puzzle,
those questions asked were seeded, expectant, and grew to be more than their parts.
I’ve been whipped into shape with restraints you’ve never really followed through with;
I’m your bird, your prey–one who cannot pray, or will not play this game you’ve put me within.
I am a colorist, a signifier, and entertainer,
disclosing memories that bloom in silent configurations. Continue reading
She’d never let herself forget how he pressed his fingers into her neck.
Though the violet marks he left would fade, they were snippets of a shared secret: the quiet threat of a more complete sonnet, one best reserved for a casket.
This “poet,” she -unsurprisingly- met on the Internet.
Who weighs options when they feel weightless?
It’s fun, for a while–leaving it all up to chance and whim.
There are times that seem so bleak, with no silver-lined rim to rely on.
But waiting for help doesn’t stop there: you’ve got a chance to abscond, so take it now.
(Comment: Hi fellow bloggers, but I’m sad to inform you, but as of tomorrow, I’ll be inactive here for a while because I need to go to a medical facility for treatment, and I won’t have internet access except through my smartphone. Maybe all the nurses will be as charming as all of you; I don’t know, but I hope to see you soon!)
The earnings’s great –If you cover the cost–
They’ll print you money, until you’re embossed!
It’s all a game –Don’t believe what you hear–
You have a chance now –But I’ll be clear–
By taking this job, all your needs are met…
–Except, what you’ll lose…you won’t forget–
An easy prompt to cast, this word,
“as we wait for the redemption of our bodies…”
As easy as a dwelling house; as easy as the words a father says.
How can one hope in what is unseen?
I’ve waited and hoped; I’ve relied on you all along…
She sighed; rolled her eyes.
She pressed on the bridge of her nose and closed the blinking browser window.
She adjusted her glasses, smiled,
“Life-hacks like these won’t do…not if you want to move toward tear-inducing agony.”
She gestured with her hand,
“Pinch your lower lip, hard.”
The next morning, I took her to the outpatient clinic.
We waited for her check-in; I sat next to her; held her pulsing hand.
Lots of people today. She mumbled.
A case manager placed a white-noise machine outside the door of the staff office:
Soothing purrs blanketed so many whispers.
A first: going back to her place, watching her sleep.
She preferred repose on her side; her right foot crossed beneath her left to feel her knee, hip and shoulder pressed into the firm mattress.
She slept with her arm extended, her hand reaching for an embrace that rarely arrived.