Paw prints cling to air Memory touches golden fur Dry ash coats my mouth Weeping salt stings sight Your breath, still, falls on my heart Autumn you’re a thief. ∞ Submitted as part of “National/Global Poetry Writing Month” (#NaPoWriMo #GloPoWriMo). Today’s prompt: write a poem that: Is specific to a season Uses imagery that relates to…
Letting Go
When to let go? when do I …? when does the holding on stop being pain and become a habit of always checking the door before bed always running a fork through my fish always hanging an ornament given by someone you don’t even remember of dusting dog bowls four years empty — when does…
My Phantom Limb
A phantom limb I feel your pain gone and dead. I walk with a limp now four years a broken limb ripped from my trunk weathered wormed worn gone and dead. A limb warm still beating and bursting golden into a sky ready to burst with tears still rustling through my fingers. A limb that…
Memory’s — — Space
Today — — you rest remembered — — in — — a space — — a place of sand — — and ash pawprints — — upon — — an urn a soft spot a safe — — sojourn waiting — — having left — — me listening — — to your memories — —…
Forest Nocturne
an autumn twilight | rains: forest stars drip leafs upon: broken | hearted pillars of wood: a shipwreck | spears present: in a past — a future parted out of reach | I mourn | the walk a passage of time | locked away: in a closet sand in my shoe | pebbles | rock…
Possessing Loss: Remembering Ben
I’d never realized that loss is such a complicated and nuanced concept. I thought you either had something or you didn’t — that something is either possessed or it is lost. I figured the only complication would be if something is misplaced. But over the last year, I’ve discovered that loss is something that can…
Ben ~ In Memoriam
It was a rainy morning, a forecast filled with tears. Ben, the miracle dog, has left us, left my hearth, but not my heart. These past few days have been the saddest of my life — and that isn’t hyperbole. It seems only right that it has poured rain almost non-stop here for two days, save…
His News
The news: a bark that bites through my heart Words on a screen scratching at my soul My world shakes and it flings me down I choke on the hairy diagnosis And it claws at my breaking eyes. The clock chimes, the hands move, Eighteen years are now ticking , Sands caught in his paws, now…