Sunday, July 24, 2016

Boots / Tea Ceremony Pt. 2

Tea Ceremony Pt. 1 

"Experience is the key."  - Sen No Rikyu

The killer wears boots.
You can tell by his tracks;
a wolfway saunter,
he never looks back.
Walking with dawn
and a moon barely gone
to call upon
Father and Mother.

Father! he calls from just inside the door.
No answer; he'd flayed father
two nights before.
But is that a whimper -
upstairs, second floor -
or just noise inside his head?
Erotic noise inside his head.

I'm coming, Mother, the killer said.

Note:  I wrote a rather ghoulish piece (see link above) for the first tea ceremony prompt, so when it came up again at Real Toads, I couldn't resist doing a follow-up.  Forgive me, Magaly; the flesh is weak.  Today's nod to the "The End" by The Doors was inspired by a comment that Shay left on my original poem.

If you're not completely sick of me yet, I have a new poem up at Enclave for the #FINALPOEMS series.  Check it out; I'd love to know what you think!

Thursday, July 21, 2016

Lord, It's Hot

Perspire turned to sweat
ten degrees ago.  My ponytail
drags dew thick dirt, and my alligator
curls at my feet.  She is the mother
of deadlines and reptilian
revisions, quick slashes,
aggressive, quick, efficient punctuation,
and bare bones evolution.
Dainty deadly, she demands
coldblooded treks
through swamps, sewers, strip
malls, and cemeteries.
Bring out your dead!  Bring out your dead!
The art is in the autopsy,
someone should have said -
but, Lord, it's hot
and hard to be quicker than the rot.

For Hannah's prompt at Real Toads

Wednesday, July 20, 2016

The Woman Card

Duty calls;

Our Sisters bled
blood coming out of her wherever*
for better than this.

*Republican nominee Donald Trump on Fox News anchor Megyn Kelly's performance as moderator of a Republican debate.

For Midweek Motif~Suffrage at Poets United

Tuesday, July 19, 2016


On Sundays I study the sacred
and sort the laundry.
The difference
(if there really is a difference)
blurs when I'm washing whites.

We all want to get our stains out
and be clean again
We all want to be fresh
and sanctified.

For The Tuesday Platform at Real Toads

Sunday, July 17, 2016

The Social Contract

Offer your word,
your bones, your sweat,
the fleshy swirl
of your fingertips,
and your X.

the market value
of being eaten.

When you consider yourself, consider
you're one
of the lucky ones.

Nevermind the breach, my peach.
the breach.

For Karin's prompt at Real Toads.  Also submitted to Poetry Pantry at Poets United.

Thursday, July 14, 2016

What A Tongue

Art by Milena Pavlović Barili (via Museum of Contemporary Art Belgrade)
Milena Pavlovic Barili

can tell is ripe

or rot
with a single taste,

a heart cannot.

For Words Count at Real Toads

Tuesday, July 12, 2016

Fragile Things

I can be trusted
with most fragile things -
an infant's sleep
or a butterfly's wings.
Nothing is subject
to rough handling
by me
it seems
but me.

For The Tuesday Platform at Real Toads