the heat from its candle inspires
the lantern to cast away from
my fingers, set sail in the briny
above, swim with whip-poor-wills
and wrens all the while its yellow
gaze never leaves the hope of
this world or my ever-reaching arms
(photo credit: Takeaway/wikimedia.org)
My brother said my swollen head resembled a bowling ball; he threatened to stick his fingers in my sockets and carry me to an alley. Then the doctor grabbed tweezers and told me to hold still, which only made me howl louder.
(photo: gratisography.com)
Cheddar revved them like cocaine does us. After their spaceships disappeared, we wallowed in the absence of our friends, not knowing their holds glowed orange. Goudas and muensters spread wide in our grocery store dairy cases remind us daily of their betrayal.
We asked our sonorous ship to call out, to sing her silent aria so the notes would chase each other into the chasms of the lake, returning only when they’d found you hiding beneath three hundred sixty-five feet of shimmering viridian crepe.
We stand a pool’s length apart. Bow ties bring bruschetta on dainty plates. Sixty-three rooms filled with happier couples are stacked under our feet and you’re only aware of the blonde that might touch your forearm. The wind swells, smells of ozone.
For months Damon has stalked the office hallways like a gray suited bomber, shooting down smiles with icy scowls. We, his coworkers, await the shelter lady’s inevitable visit when she’ll hand him a lop-eared puppy and he will melt to the floor.
(photo credit: gratisography.com)
“Sir? You ok? Can you tell me what happened?”
The contour of her neck sliding past her uniform collar strikes me.
“Someone’s messed you up bad, but it’s alright; I’m here now. I’ll stay ’til the ambulance comes.”
That smile deserves diamonds.
(photo credit: unsplash.com/jeffrey swanson)
I craved something sweet, so I ambushed a village marooned in orchards. My pulpy prey stopped dead in his tracks to confront me but could only stammer before my fangs pierced rind. The tang of his blood hit me sweet as marmalade.
(photo credit: Sebastian Kostrubala/unsplash.com)
I fell through a cloud last night,
piffed then sluiced
through cumulocirrus fields—
puffs of smoke
strung gray and then white again
I looked to the night beyond,
orb-eyed, past
the cuneiform I’d cut,
(whistling air)
saw Castor and Pollux guard
wet nebulas strewn like poor
Zeus’s babes
that wandered Olympus bare
Stars shift shape:
my Gemini folded back
to cloth, to my bedclothes’ jet
fabric sheen
Polaris, the cad, stretched out
(closet, clock)
and up to make walls, then spun
a vortex to fan me dry
Bed again—
tucked tight as a diving suit
(humming) and
I fell through a cloud last night
Two low-flying owls hurtled toward us, so white they glittered in the fog. We heard the susurrus of their wings before talons shattered our windshield. Stunned, all we could do was let them shuttle us— faster than lightning— into our next lives.
Northwest Journals 
