Category: Poetry

The message was clear. You’re damned if you do. You’re more damned if you don’t. You sit down like the others. The place where thick girls go. The seats give a little extra. They push you in a certain direction. They yell follow me to the end. I ask the end of what? of where?

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We are rounding the bases tonight. I am sweating from head to feet. This isn’t baseball. It isn’t softball. No one is the winner or loser. This is a different game. One without any disagreements. You are not allowed to waste time. Your hand cuts a deal. Adequate bandages cling firm. Our eyes not caring.

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a bucketful of sin in a smaller bucket of torture and in both sits regret. stirred up all nice like, and no one noticed how easily it was to pile up the sin. the willpower to deny the urges is fierce but not fierce enough. the slippery slope, up and down, creating new moves, searching

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Creating something new was the suggestion. The problem was I didn’t know where to start. Paint the image from twenty years ago, don’t hide your experience, make sure there is truth in every brushstroke. Imagine if it was hung in a gallery, some of the freshness now dulled, needing to brighten the lights more to

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I couldn’t possibly know. I’ve been hiding too long. Under a rock, absolutely not. I pulled a tree from the ground. Watered its roots from my own tears. Fed it with my own bile. He spoke in the dark of night. Clasping his religious hands. For you and me, he said. He had such great

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When will you show yourself, Mr. Couff? I have waited so long, to hear your words of kindness. My mama wouldn’t want to know I’ve been acting this way. I’m quite embarrassed by my thoughts. The gossip was part false. Should I ignore how I feel? Should I pretend the situation didn’t exist? Should I

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The raindrops have not fallen on my head. The reason I’m in bed. The purple haze has not stopped me from seeing. The reason being I’m not believing. The way to move is rolling down a mudslide. The reason for this, denied. Trying to collect the right title. The reason this part was never a

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I will imagine the soul is inside out, like life is. I desire to be the dust of all dust, the earth of plenty. I might imagine every minute is worthy, the seconds never complaining. I forge through the shadows, knowing the thorns will bleed. I desire to be the green of abundance, the layers

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Who are you to walk that way? A scruffy, starving cat with nowhere to go. They caught you, alright. Make you pay for what you did. They put up fliers. Your face for everyone to see. Forced to crawl low to the ground. Tears and cuts along the way. They killed you, alright.

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It’s lonely. Any place down there in the dungeon. Alone. It’s never up there. There’s no sky or mountains, not the wind or clouds. You’ve typed a word. The only word. Your mind moving. It’s faster. Looking ahead but not fast enough. Thoughts. The story has already been written once.

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She said she was twisting, tossing and turning her head about. She used to be a country star. No one would look at her otherwise. She is shriveled up, hunched over like a raisin, committing posture suicide. She thinks she is bogged down, crushed like a little beetle. Red is her favorite color. She could

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The water boils over. The pot is alive. He says, “you need to pay attention.” The stove makes whooshing sounds. We aren’t having fun. One noodle has escaped. Dancing near the ring of fire. The rest of the noodles are edible. His nagging persists. Makes me grab paper towels, clean up the bubbled water, the

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Marlboro used to be Woman’s cigarette, not any Man’s, but he too took that away. Women are supposed to smoke Newport. How am I to do that? With no money! I don’t even have a dime to my name. When the sun goes down, I walk around. How do you pretend to throw away a

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