Tag Archives: poem

Against the Grain

Two things clawed at her mind— this was no way for a brain to behave, and why couldn’t she remember the fucking mantra, it was designed to help and she sure as shit had paid enough for it. As she … Continue reading

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Cabin Fever

A getaway, he had reasoned brightly, it will be good for us, give us a chance to reconnect. Why did everything he said always sound perfectly rehearsed, a conviction born of rote directive? Was it the way he spoke, the … Continue reading

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Remains of the Day

From where she sat, the house seemed to be swaddled in sheer gauze, and flickering, like a light that was about to go out. She considered adjusting her view to dispel what must be an illusion, but there was something … Continue reading

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Soap Serial

If someone would have told her it would be like giving birth to a checklist of domestic servitude and falsely fresh produce on a numbingly repeatable basis, she might have seriously pursued her childhood dream of running away with the … Continue reading

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Minor to Major

Had she done the right thing? And by right thing what or whose standards was she applying to measure the moral correctness or lack thereof of what she had done? She had grown sick and tired of considering every angle … Continue reading

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It’s Not What You Think

As the water softened the earth in the garden, she peered out from under her sunhat to gauge if that dark thing coiled by the fence was really a snake, and if so, by god, could it be smiling?   … Continue reading

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Inspired by Real Events

It wasn’t her in the book, but it could be. Why couldn’t it be? If she modeled herself correctly, assuming the strictest code of due fiction, she could rival the heroine between the covers and rest easy, knowing others were … Continue reading

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Doorframe

The course couldn’t be changed, same as the sounds coming from the other side of the door, which belonged to her broken-in replacement. She waited for something to stop, or perhaps to knock and show that the next move was … Continue reading

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Undergrowth

There had been rumors, hints, warnings, about the nature of certain fairy tales that fucked you in the end— The trees bent to listen, or rather to feel the story of her grief soaking into the earth and slaking the … Continue reading

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Smolder

In a sense, you could call it a stay of execution, but that would be waxing operatic just to make the whole thing worth remembering. Still, he had groveled before your feet, while clutching at your shadow’s hem, begging for … Continue reading

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