Monday, December 22, 2008




Sophia-- dazed and confused--a thin little thing with a light brown bob floating just below her ears, thin and delicate. (Her eyes great silver marbles.) She questioned all that shifted and twisted around her and often collected dead mice floating atop the water's green surface. She combed dry their damp, knotted fur before placing their plump bodies inside plastic bags where they stared at her with empty, expressionless eyes. Sophia walked into the house with a dirt-smeared forehead, tugging along a peculiar smell.

Thursday, December 18, 2008

When blood roses swirl down the toilet
I know the time has come
to banish Mickey Mouse
and reel in textbooks
heavier than Cinderella’s pumpkin coach.
Some nights
I hear them whispering my name.
Desperate for entry,
their gentle scratches yank me
backward
a thousand years.
As always,
I am left abandoned.
Flattened tears
in a pyramid shape
form that familiar face.