though they claimed
to regret not being able
to offer her the position
she couldn’t help but roll her
eyes in disbelief and claim
herself that she never
wanted it in the first place.
Category: poems
Rugby
Sometimes in my sleep
I play rugby in my dreams,
but I never score.
combustion
inevitable combustion
my being breaking down and
shattering
like a decorative glass
spilling its wine on the empty masses.
the particles in the thread which so aptly
hold together this battered skin
busting at the seams,
ready to shatter planets.
I can feel
the heat boiling,
overflowing,
and I can see its
invading fires creeping upward
to overthrow trying lids.
a torch for the unknown carried and
released whimsically by puffs of smoke
always asking me
if they can yet have the freedom
to consume this teetering heart
with their savage flames.
one ring of smoke
to answer no,
because in truth I suspect that
maybe
they already have…
and I fear having to
wake up each morning
asking myself
if I’m even breathing.
don’t trust the flower
gentle buttercup
wears mask of demure petals
savage underneath
One night only
We sat and swallowed knives,
our private carnival trick.
Entrance fee: the hope in our hearts.
voice
finding the right words
imagined decadence sways
the sound of a voice
sigh again
heat embrace
hands waist
foreign tongue
familiar taste
fear the fall
fighting for balance
heartbeat crying over cliff
leap off blindfolded
swingin’
no care for our skirts
we’re swingin’ in the backyard
over blades of grass
audience
dancing in my room
I am my own audience
lost in the movement