Fiction

Euphoria

The rain came, euphoria warm on its breath. It called to her from the kitchen, glistening rivulets winking at her like crystals against the thick glass. And, without a second thought, she dashed outside, bare feet sliding over wet grass, mud squelching between her yellow-painted toes. The rain clapped at her shoulders as the wind… Continue reading Euphoria

Poetry

Spring Longing

I yearn for…Spring’s elusive caress –Balsam of her tender palms –To soothe theFrosted scabs and scarsScourging fissures deepThrough exposed fleshUnable to endureWinter’s crude affectionI long for…The sun’s elixirHoneysuckle kissingAt my lipsMelting onMy tongueAs abundant raysLike cloaks of golden silkWrap around meFragrant with the dewPlum and cherry blossomInfusedFor these barren nightsCallous and ungivingRemind me too muchOf… Continue reading Spring Longing

Nonfiction, Poetry

Starting Somewhere

It only takes one word Like a slow, hesitant breath Streaming into more fluid exhales –  An even cadence Unfurling the tense coils Of anxiety From deep within the chest Until it becomes less painful To draw these words out Even when they Snag and bruise With their jagged edges At the exposed places And delicate fringes Of my mind A balsamic comfort Trails over these wounds Soothing the unease With the knowledge  That… Continue reading Starting Somewhere

Fiction

Morning Accident

Scalded tongueBurns with curses --Hot coffee Poured down the drainBittersweet swirlsOf wasted pleasureWashed down In vacant streams An angry jerk Of the refrigerator doorBears a cold breathOver flushed cheeksIce cubes crudely culledFrom their deep bedsFor the surly monsterRolling out from its wet cave --Pink and scorched Saliva drips into the sinkThe burn cools She pours… Continue reading Morning Accident

Fiction

Staying Alive

Rupert’s hand would always go to his pocket when his sensibilities strayed too far beyond the fray. His focus would glaze, amber irises dimming like the telltale signs of life slowly ebbing from a character in a tragic film. He’d rub the things sheltered in his left pocket. Three rubiginous balls. Cold, plastic shells cocooning… Continue reading Staying Alive