Archive for the Prose Category

I was asking it, even then
I pulled a man down
and in, it was my burning skin
flushed red
the d├ęcolletage said plainly
when mirroring the memory –
is it love?
The pleasure was a puzzle
upon me, that my piece could
connect with another so easily
perfectly – and yet
the picture eluded me
indeed, confuddled me
that I should write it down
back then and years later
now, still vexed –
Does good sex create love?
Or does love create good sex?

Mirror Mirror

I met a girl
who, like me
in her early teens
was lost for love
and filled herself up
with forgotten names
as hovering, breathless faces
left her empty.

I met a girl
who claimed to be
the huntress
skillfully tracking
fair game
through clever words
and skillful fingers
now sticky with regret.

I met a girl
like a whisp of smoke
easy in the breeze
the evidence long-settled
like yellowing
soul stains
as her secret sadness
campaigned without purpose.

I met a girl
who hid it well
with rich laughter
and hardening lines
time framed eyes
who finds comfort
to recall
it hurt… but she loved it all.


Surely this isn’t me
the girl who owned
the night before her
and stood alone
completely unrestrained
by insecurity.

Surely this isn’t me
the girl who laughed
in delight
knowing only
the smallest fear
of the empty air
in between.

Surely this isn’t me
the girl-like warrior
with feet bare
and a loose brick
hurtling through the air
at tail and teeth.

Surely this isn’t me
the girl inprisoned
by barrier
a vice-grip
of social normality.

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