Heartache

The gray textured mountain ranges and ravines, of our Sunday morning bedspread, envelop my sick toddler.   She whimpers in her light sleep, her binky quietly chirping, as she suckles it.   My pajama top is clutched, in her pudgy little hand, to ensure that I must remain at her side.   In the kitchen,...

Maine

The cold granite stones beneath our feet made us taller, Elevating us above the ordinary cobblestones of Post Office Park, The moon shinning over our pre-pubescent crew of misfits. One step closer to the sky.   It was on nights such as these that I felt my first creative pangs. They began as fleeting impressions...

To Wring a Poem From My Gut

To wring a poem from my gut, there’s nothing like infuriation, with acid reflux burning, comes a verbal deviation.   My words seethe from every crack, I say only in a sarcophagus, would you be able to silence, this woman’s throbbing esophagus.   Wrenching impotence, in the face of calamity, give me a Pepcid Ac...

Am I to Blame?

Fortified by my seeming indifference and prescription –dulled demeanor, the tears don’t leak until days later, in the safety of solitude.   Your weakness has become me, questions batter my mind with guilt and grief; Was it my perfectionism?  Was I too demanding? What else could I have done?   I tried and tried and...

I Am a Sponge

saturating sadness, dolor drowning, whetting woe, sloshing sentiments, passion plunging, muddling mass. Lord, wring me Dry!