I'm posting all three parts here, because I think it is one poem.  Also, just to say — this exercise has resulted in something much different than my usual. Whether this is a good or a bad thing, I can't yet tell:    I. the walls are filled with the lives of children what appears… Continue reading

this is how it happens static in a closed room an electrical hum I open my hand sparks escape from my palm, crackling like petting a cat in the dark you reach out & touch my face a cradle, a caress it's warm there, where our skins meet     unearth — RWP minichallenge I    poetry… Continue reading

the walls are filled with the lives of children what appears to be an exit changes to a trap you have everything to lose oil rainbows the water, a thin & dangerous sheen that pain you call love pulls you away there is no point in stopping in the middle of the mountain road an… Continue reading

I sit in my shaded garden, watching the koi and goldfish feed. The house is closed against this heat, plantation shutters pulled across the windows. Every week my aunt baked two cakes in the wood stove, one with the yolks, one with the whites. Angel-food cake, sponge cake. Sue cut off her fingertip fixing the… Continue reading