Mother is standing by waiting,
apron-tied
her hair pinned in curls
some already falling
I’m pushed against
his swollen ribs that
crack,
splinter,
my palms wet with
soft acid,
bone ripped aside
I emerge careful.
She stirs a teacup
waiting for me to sit.
There’s plenty for both of us,
she says, and pours.
A warm afternoon.
We pay no mind to Father
sticking dead to the floor.
Brighter than a fall bonfire but with the chill of ice the Winter sun haloes the gray and barren woodland, throbbing, almost hesitant, with a florescent pulse, brazen in its unrelenting descent,…
The girl lifts her skirt To the boy from Biology Who wouldn’t touch the scalpel But now grips her flanks with nails That should’ve been cut She’s on his lap, back to…
The curvature of the eye marred by irregularity distorts. Rain falling through the aqueous arch prisms, propelling points of light skyward, produces an aura most saintly. Sunlight swallowed by the curve curls…
One of the only Workingmans’ bars in town Situated near the GM Plant; They catered to the men Who worked the line Kept the food simple The jukebox stacked With blue collar…