Published in Blood & Bourbon Issue #13

The juxtaposition
of the electric hum
arcing
inside my body
and the
mundane task
of going to
the post office

Almost enough
to make me laugh
but not out loud
and then that adds
to the neurons
firing like
hummingbird flaps
behind my eyes

Would you like
stamps today?
He quietly asks
in monotones
that surely signify
his own lightning storm
beneath the well-rehearsed
script that drives his day
I don’t know what I want
I tell him without
the slightest hint of shyness
and all the candour
I have in me

And when he looks
up
He really looks up

and meets my eyes
and both our lives
are violently whipping
in the wind of a moment
that shatters the daily mundane

And instead of a chuckle
or half-hearted joke
he pauses
and nods
and looks at my letter
and somehow it seems
like he
gets it
You’ll know
by the time
this arrives
Give yourself time
24 hours is all that it takes
and by then
it’ll all
be alright

And somehow
he was right

Slip out of the slipstream
and into quiet bliss
if only for a moment, know
there’s more to life than this

Published in Issue 111 of 34th Parallel Magazine

I’ve never felt my age
never worn the years weary
but one thing I’ve realized
is I can measure my life
in slices of an orange

The first, each slice
meticulously peeled apart
so not a single fragment
of pouch or pith
remains on the juicy flesh

Because in childhood
everything is sweet
and nothing gets in the way of joy
and someone is always there
to peel it just the way you like

As a teenager
the whole thing is cut
juiced and scrapped
craving the sweetness but
lacking the patience

Young adulthood
harbored no oranges
He didn’t like the way they smelled
Bright astringent citrus lingered
out of the control he demanded

And then there’s now
on a lunch break from the grind
each section peeled slowly
chewed whole
and never lasting long enough

I used to only like
the very best
of the orange
But now I take the sweet
with the tough

And silly as it sounds
it’s the first time I’ve ever felt grown
up

Glittering droplets
of evening rain
clung to and slid down
the windowpane

Birdsong chaotic
a distant hum
Echos of springtime
and what’s to come

Silence can be
welcoming
when your mind is at ease

But silence can
be deafening
when panic steals your peace

Lavender, rose, honey tea
Pistachio shortbread
A faint, warm breeze

Overfill the bath
lay me down
in greens and blues

Wrap me in a wish
share this week
in rosy hues

Crawling into your own bed
after being away
Taking off those three-inch heels
after a long day

Everybody’s Christmas lights
shining down the block
A small hand slipped into your own
while going for a walk

Water quenching hard-worked thirst
A toy from long ago
Dinner someone else has made
The fireplace aglow

A sleepy snoring puppy
weighing warmly on your lap
“I’ll start your car and scrape it off”
A fuzzy hand-knit cap

A gentle touch, a sturdy hug
The way they say your name
In a year of ups and downs
the comforts still remain

Published in the Winter edition of Capsule Stories

The steam rose
from the coffee mug
tufting in and out
of existence

One of those
February days when
the heat just
can’t keep up

and the effort required
to leave the warm cocoon
of bedsheets
was Herculean

Crawling back in and
burrowing into the blankets and
mentally adding to the growing
list of things to do, I

feel a weariness that caffeine
cannot touch
Maybe I can post that mail tomorrow
Maybe I don’t have to clean the floor

Maybe I’ll just
stay in bed
an hour
(day
week
month)
more

Morning coffee
by the bay

Warmest it will
be all day

Nodding to the
passers by

Gradual brightness
in the sky

Breathing in the
early chill

Relishing the
eerie still

Slipping back
into my room

Drifting off
til afternoon

Waking just to
take it slow

Laze away the
winter woe

Tired
is such a
small word

Too small
to hold
this crushing weight

A boa constrictor
wrapped around
existence

Muscle crumbling
like shortbread
in winter

Tired implies
in need
of rest

But I’m
in need
of every breath