Sunday, March 9, 2014

No place like home

She sleeps in my bed
missing her own
but glad for the warmth

of my Egyptian cotton sheets
and the neutral
Target comforter set I shared

with the ex-boyfriend who left
me to play
house with a neighbor lady.

She thanks me for my
generosity, not knowing
I would burn that bed

and flee this tortured place,
run from this
incestuous den of communal pain

and the home built together, 
where any memories
of warmth have long died.


Thursday, March 6, 2014


A little girl came across our lawn
and knocked on our door. A pawn
no more. She was gone.
Past the dawn. 

Just a baby, innocence foregone,

she lay on my couch and yawned,
"No more." She was gone
past the dawn

late the next morning. She yelled, "Come on!"

when she woke. A little fawn
no more. She was gone.
Past the dawn.


Creative Bloomings - Triquint

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