Poetry

Alphabet shapes

Sometimes the words don’t come.

Right when you need them most, they fail,

choked by tears or ripped up by anger.

 

I can block any bullets aimed at myself.

 

But the target is someone I love,

so the barrage fueling the muteness

unwittingly unleashes the beserker.

Poetry

The Graveyard Visit

The grass blades are rapiers

doused in mercury.

I choose to walk with dragon-scale shoes

to that soft mound

covering the stone I’ve looked on so often.

 

I remember you next to me, bright eyes.

 

Remember the heat of your breath on my neck,

the charge to your fur that would crack blue

if I wasn’t careful,

scolding my fingers.

 

The thud of paws still vibrates through the ground

with every step away

I take.