Henna Summer
Poised on the lips of the world, midnight dances, her smoky darkness filling the cracks left by moisture and scratches. Where she loves and bleeds, so bloom the roses.
Tag: Prose
Sleeping Beauty
It chimed at midnight and so awoke me from a slumber permeated with dreams that spread like an ink blot on paper. I watched then the moon creep across the floor until it alighted on silken bedspread . . .
Embroidery Woman
And the sky turns purple bruised by the sun and the woman raises her face graven with wind and the moon rises silken in the night . . . .
Touch of Midnight
The moonlight makes shadows dance across the lawn and fills the valleys between the hills in my backyard with pools of silken darkness. Dew is gathering on the grass, and I am walking in the cool beneath the fruit trees watching the fireflies spark like stars in the expanse of land around me . . .
White Star Line
The sun rises from the black depths of the ocean and alights on the fragile rim of my wine cup. It is white wine from Italy alive with the tang of midnight and the sweetness of rosemary.
‘Athazagoraphobia’ Published at Farside Review!
I am delighted to share my prose piece, Athazagoraphobia, is published at Farside Review in the journal’s newly released third issue!
Even though I wrote this piece last year, it is my first publication of 2023 and, upon rereading the piece, love how fitting a piece it feels upon which to enter the new year.
Morning Routine
It is time to write poetry and feel the words wax and wan within me. The tea curls hot in my chipped cup and, infused with music and sweet marzipan, I write.
Art Abandoned
He sits there in shadow with concrete lacings on his skin and mortality in his eye. River rock and pebble root him to the black earth. Urban landscape abounds . . .
Urban Legend
Around me, death. I feel it in the crusted soil and smell it in the lost air. It braids through my hair and buries itself in my porcelain skin . . .
Amaranthine Dance
Under clear skies in shadow of cotton clouds, I am asked to sacrifice who I am in exchange for gold that turns to bronze pennies . . .