Dreaming of lost places I awake yearning for one last walk through beige painted rooms where once I roamed freely. I ache to touch the walls, to run my gnarled fingers over the wallpaper with green roses, to trod the uncarpeted floors and smell coffee as it perks— its pungent…
I am a woman. That means I become half a person when I marry, a mere extension of my husband. A nameless, faceless, mindless entity born to endure his needs, to become slave to his wishes, entombed in a kitchen mop in hand dreams underfoot. I am a woman. That…
The spring of my broken ankle soft breezes blew through my bedroom window’s lacy white curtains. Fifty times a day I listened to Pachelbel’s Canon in D major as it drifted through my room. Waiting for my body to heal, my restless soul left me meandering meaninglessly through the fields…
I am old now. Lines crisscross my face in no particular pattern as if some half-crazed spider forgot how to spin her web. Each morning brings more bad news. Just when I get used to the lines burrowing deep within my jowls giving me a Charlie McCarthy appearance, age spots…
Purple light filters through sharp barbed wire fences holding two spotted ponies captive to their own loneliness and the whims of man. Freedom descends at twilight, steps from the sky, reaches a welcoming hand through the fence, beckons them to join her. Their flight is fast. Bucking the day’s heat…
The joy of my youth was picking berries. Summer brought strawberries, blueberries, raspberries. The fields around my house were abundant. When dew left the grass, I grabbed a glass, Ran out the door. Ran to the fields. Not to pick fast, but to savor each moment. To dream of days…
